


Consort to the King

by Ember



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Regency, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Control Issues, D/s, Dom/sub Undertones, Dominance, Fluff and Angst, Knotting, Loss of Control, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mating, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Nesting, No mpreg, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Omega Verse, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Derek Hale, Regency, Royalty, Smut, Werewolves, courting, polyamorous, teenwolfpoly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-19
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-05 03:49:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1089272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ember/pseuds/Ember
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>King Derek, alphas of alphas, ruler of the realms, lord of the city of Beacon Hills, has just asked newly discovered omega Stiles to be his consort and mate. And Stiles, being the lowly commoner that he is, has no choice but to say yes. Will the King's past allow him to love again? Will Stiles ever escape the confines of his new mate's possessive will? Can there be love once more in the castle? Or perhaps, yet again, another betrayal?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted to read a regency era/medieval omegaverse fic without mpreg, and I kept not finding it, so I wrote it. My main kink here is gonna be heat sex with a very, very possessive, jealous, demanding Derek, and a very naive Stiles who quickly matures as he learns how best to handle his mate, in more ways than one~ I hope you enjoy!

Alphas weren’t particularly common, no one would say that, but there were enough of them that they weren’t a rarity. Usually powerful families bred them by the herds, and the odd alpha that came from a less than honorable household usually elevated their ranks upon adulthood. There was something dependable about them, something commanding, and they demanded respect from all who beheld them. Alphas made nobles, generals, powerful merchants. Alphas made chiefs, emperors, kings.

Betas were your common folk, your everyday. They didn’t have the power of a full shift like alphas, only able to turn into half wolf forms, their fangs sharpened to deadly points and their fingernails turning into cruel and yellowed claws. Usually an alpha would take a beta mate, and it was somewhat unheard of that two alphas would give up enough power to form a bond with one another. It was the hope of many betas for a beautiful, young alpha to whisk them away and cement a bond, promising a life of riches and power. Only a select few ever got that opportunity.

Omegas, though, well… omegas were special. Especially the male ones.

+++

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Stiles’ father grumbled, pulling at his neckerchief. He was dressed in a dark grey suit, the buttons a fine, polished silver, double breasted. He had refused the ruffled undershirt when it had been offered, as well as the gloves, preferring to keep his hands as free as possible. Stiles was sure he had a pistol somewhere on his person.

Stiles shrugged, his own dove grey suit crinkling. He had also refused the ruffles and the gloves, though he had no pistol in hand. Which was a shame, because he could really use the comfort of a firearm right now. “What choice do I have? All omegas must report to the king.”

“Yes, but they’re making more of a spectacle out of this than is called for,” his fathered argued back, keeping his voice low so that the riders outside would not hear him. “The law states you can be given a private audience, with none of this spectacle.”

“A little late, don’t you think?” Stiles asked dryly, opening a curtain to the spectacle happening just beside them. Crowds lined the streets of their city with flower garlands and bright clothes, cheering as their carriage drove by. “It’s practically a holiday now.”

“It’s as if they had never seen an omega before!” Stiles father scowled as he looked out the window. “Why, I happen to know we have twenty-three in the city as we speak. As sheriff I’m forced to know them all by name. And I hear another is due any day now.”

“They’re all imported though,” Stiles reasoned, and he couldn’t help but smile at a little girl waving frantically from atop her father’s shoulders. He waved back, only to see the smile that lit up her face. “I’m fresh from the city itself, born and raised in Beacon Hills. I’m the first omega born within the walls for over a decade. And you can’t tell me there wasn’t all this fanfare when the last one was discovered.”

Stiles father only grumbled at that, something about times changing and antiquity rusting the hinges of society.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Stiles said snidely, glancing sidelong at his father, “but was not the last festival held in honor of a native omega the very place you met Mom?”

His father opened his mouth, a sound of protest catching at his throat before closing it again. He sighed, exhausted, wiping his hand over his eyes. “Maybe she’d be more of a comfort than I’m being right now.”

“Hey,” Stiles whispered, leaning forward to put his hand on his father’s knee, causing the man to look at him. He gave his bravest smile, though he didn’t feel very brave at all. “I know it’s not easy discovering your only son is an omega, especially since you’re a beta, and having to put up with all this bullshit... but you’re doing great. Really.”

His father’s smile felt just as genuine as his own. Which was to say, not at all. “I hope so, son.”

+++

And then there were omegas, physically the weakest, the furthest away from their wolf. Unable to shift into even a half form, they had limited healing powers, little strength, and dulled senses. They were rare, biologically equipped to be an alpha’s greatest desire. Their smell alone was perfumed with such honeyed pheromones that any alpha’s mouth would water at the scent. They were beautiful, lithe, with slender bodies and soft skin. The females were fertile, promising child after child to any mate. Males were, of course, a little more complicated.

No one was sure when the first omega male came to be, though they had been recorded since history was written. It was clear that they were from the same evolutionary branch as their female counterparts, their very bodies made to drive alphas to lust. They were equipped to be the perfect lovers for both sexes, with a stamina that would more than match any female alpha, and slick insides that would allow male alphas to mount them. 

Evolutionary, omega’s qualities served them best with already mated alphas. Omegas could easily seduce their way to an alphas side and present themselves as another mate, whether male or female. When the alpha had accepted the omega into their fold, the omega would then have easy access to the alpha or the alpha’s mate, depending on which sex they needed to reproduce. With such sweet smelling skin and soft caresses, they would seduce both partners, ensuring their own genetics would be passed down. The alpha would then protect the omega and any offspring as their own.

+++

“The honorable Sheriff Stilinski, and his son-,” and here the crier stopped, staring perplexed at the parchment in his hand.

“Just call me Stiles,” the teen muttered, his face reddening at the mere thought of the nobles gathered hearing his name, much less the butchered version that everyone outside of his family managed to pronounce.

“And his son, Stiles Stilinski!” the crier announced, nodding his thanks without moving his gaze, his black curls bobbing at the motion.

The was a round of polite applause from the lavishly dressed nobles and merchants, and murmurs of speculation. None of which Stiles could hear, because of course he was merely an omega, and would never have the power of even a partial beta shift. There went Deaton’s theory of him being a late bloomer right out the window. He wondered if the city physician hadn’t theorized about Stiles actually being an omega before, for it certainly made a lot of sense in hindsight.

Stiles and his father walked stiffly forward together into the king’s throne room, Stiles never having set foot inside the palace walls before. Naturally Sheriff Stilinski had come to the castle quite a few times to report on the city’s safety, but never directly to the king. No, few ever made contact with the secluded King Hale, and it had been that way since the alpha’s coronation only a few years ago in the wake of his sister’s death. And, of course, his mate’s betrayal.

As Stiles grew closer he found himself confirming that His Majesty was indeed a handsome man. He had dark hair and stubble, which offset his pale skin and light eyes. His teeth would no doubt be white and straight, though they were currently hidden behind an impassive frown. His shoulders were broad and waist narrow, and like most alphas Stiles had no doubt that he had great strength to go along with his handsome features. Thinking of his own lanky frame, Stiles couldn’t help but sigh inwardly. Some guys got all the luck.

They stopped a few feet from the raised throne and bowed low. They had spent all morning practicing it under Lord Peter’s watchful gaze, again and again until the man was satisfied. It hadn’t been harrowing enough that the King’s uncle and adviser was there to pick them up himself, oh no, he had to give them etiquette lessons as well. Not to mention hand deliver their suits. It had been quite the bizarre morning to offset quite a bizarre week.

The king nodded graciously to them both, as did the Princess Cora seated by his side, her throne sat lower to the left to show that she was not his mate, merely his blood. Lord Peter stood to the side, his hands clasped behind him and his face as impassive as his niece and nephew.

“We have gathered here today to welcome a new omega into this city’s walls,” King Derek began, his voice clear and echoing throughout the chamber.

Stiles felt a chill go through him at the authority the king’s voice commanded, though he quickly tried to suppress it. He was not going to have such reactions to his _liege_ , for the Goddess’ sake. He had some semblance of control, for all of his eighteen years.

“This is the first time in over a decade in which a native to our city has been discovered as an omega,” his majesty continued, and Stiles was glad that the alpha was staring out onto his subjects, and not directly at him. His pale eyes were hazel, the dark green matching his thick tunic. The cape clasped around his neck was lined with black fur, and if the rumors were correct, it was the same color as the king’s wolf form. Stiles suddenly had the urge to see what the king looked like as a wolf, but then again, so did the rest of the kingdom.

“As such, I must formally ask this young omega to enter into my protection, until such a time as another alpha can formally request his bond,” the King continued, as was protocol. This was when King Hale did look down, and Stiles could not suppress the flush that came over him as that piercing gaze met his. “Master Stilinski, do you accept my protection?”

Stiles opened his mouth to find that nothing came out but a squawk.

Suddenly the room, which had been so somberly quiet before, lighted with tinkling laughter. Even the royal family cracked light smiles; all but Derek of course, who remained as stony faced as ever. And that really wasn’t helping Stiles remember his lines.

It took an elbow shoved into his ribs, courtesy of his father, for Stiles to finally find his voice again, though there was no helping the bright blush that now stained his cheeks. “I humbly accept your protection, your Grace.”

King Derek glared across the room until all was quiet once more before answering, “Then so shall it be, and by the Goddess herself I swear to protect you.”

And that was it. Or well, that’s all that should have been. They would then move into the dining hall, have an awkward feast, and everyone would drink and be merry and gossip over which pair would get to have their hands on Stiles. And Stiles would sit close to, but not directly next to, the royal family, perhaps next to other omegas so that they may give him some worldly wisdom of what was to come.

That was the plan, of course, until Lord Peter stepped in front of the throne, looking up at his nephew with a sly grin, his voice loud and clear as he asked, “By your Grace’s leave, may I make a proposal?”

+++

The addition of an omega to a mated pair was never seen as a breach of morals. Bonded pairs of the same sex could easily bring an omega into their fold to ensure offspring, and many often did. It was a sign of power to have an omega as a mate, but always as a third, always as an addition, always after an alpha and beta had been bonded. The power of three, of alpha, beta, omega, altogether within the the same bonded pair.

The reason that omegas were so few, of course, were because both alpha and betas had dominant genes. This meant that often a family could go decades before producing an omega child. It wasn’t unheard of for one to pop up in a common household, the buried past of an omega ancestor long since forgotten. And that was exactly what happened with Stiles Stilinski.

+++

“What proposal do you have for me, Uncle?” King Derek asked, his voice neutral but his brow furrowed. “What could not wait past this occasion?”

“It is exactly this occasion which leads me to this proposal, your Grace,” Lord Peter explained, motioning back towards Stiles. “As you said yourself, an omega native to our city is a rare occurrence. One that is said to be a blessing from the Goddess herself. The last time such a thing happened, that omega’s bonding to a neighboring kingdom ensured peace for decades to come.” He turned to the crowd now, his eyes proud as he scanned over the nobles. “Is it not time to ensure our own city’s happiness with such a union?”

The crowd murmured at that, and only silenced when King Derek raised an imperious hand.

“So you say,” the king answered, “but in what match are you proposing for this feat? Obviously your thoughts have turned to the bonding of omega Stilinski.”

Stiles’ fists clenched as his stomach dropped. Okay, so he knew that he was going to have to bond eventually, probably even soon. But as the most eligible bachelor in Beacon Hills (excluding the king of course, though everyone was sure he would never take another mate) he had been prepared for a bit of courting, a bit of wooing, and then being able to pick whatever pair he felt best suited his needs. As a citizen it was his right to accept or deny whatever partners he wished, but as an omega it was imperative that he select those partners before his first heat set in.

“Omega Stilinski is a blessing upon this city, and as a blessing he deserves none but the best out of his alpha mate,” Lord Peter answered, his voice full of grandeur and theatrics. “And thus I propose he be bonded with none other than your Majesty himself, the grandest of alphas to grace our fair city.”

Silence, dead silence. Stiles was sure he wasn’t the only one whose mouth had dropped at such a ludicrous suggestion. There had never even been whisperings of the king taking another consort, not after the last one had left him a hollowed husk of the man he once was- or so it was said. There was no way that King Derek would ever accept such an offer.

The king’s brow furrowed. “And what right do you have to publicly announce your opinions of who I bond with?” His voice was little more than a growl as he ground the words out.

“Merely your humble adviser, only here to look after the prosperity of our fair city,” Lord Peter answered, bowing, his arms extended outwards in a grand gesture. “Is there no greater happiness for a kingdom, but for its king’s happiness? And is there no greater happiness for an alpha, but for the bond of an omega?”

Stiles held his tongue, but anyone in the room could see the inconsistency with what Lord Peter was saying. A bond of an omega was renowned, true, but only to a mated pair who already held the strength of both alpha and beta. And for the king to bond with an omega first? A male omega at that, who would one day share the future queen! Stiles status would bring no prestige to whatever offspring he would produce, and heirs to the kingdom would be of highest priority. There was absolutely no sense in it.

Of course… And at this thought Stiles stared up at the king, who looked begrudgingly contemplative at his uncle’s words. Of course, there had been rumor that the king refused to have another consort, and thus there would never be a queen. A dark past was said to haunt him, the extent which few knew, most certainly not lowly Stiles. It had been widely accepted that it would be Princess Cora’s children who would take the throne after Derek’s death, which had stirred many tongues.

And then King Derek said, “I have taken your proposal into consideration.” He rose then, his cape billowing behind him, his sister quick to take his lead and stand as well. “I will bond with the newly found Omega Stilinski, accepting the Goddess’ gift to our city as my own, and thus, as the Kingdom’s.” And then once more he stared straight into Stiles eyes with that stony, unflinching look, no hint of softness to be found. “Do you accept my offer?”

Did the King of Beacon Hills just ask Stiles to be his mate? To be his consort? To elevate to a status so far above his birthright he wouldn’t even be able to see it from atop the throne he was to sit upon, right next to King Derek’s side? This had to be a dream. Some lucid dream that felt all too real, in a suit that was uncomfortable and in a room that was deafeningly silent.

But, dream or reality, there was really only one answer a commoner like Stiles could say in the face of his king, commander of the realms, alpha of all alphas. Stiles’ words did not shake, even as his hands did, and his voice did not waver, even as his heart did. He said, quietly but clearly, the only thing he knew he could. 

“I accept.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles sipped his watered wine, glancing down to his father who had been seated further down, the man in quiet discussion with Deaton. To Stiles’ left sat King Derek, his soon to be mate, who had not smiled the entire dinner. Across from him sat Princess Cora, his soon to be sister-in-law, who was currently staring serenely into her soup. To his right sat Lord Peter Hale, his soon to be uncle-in-law, who hadn’t stopped smirking since Derek had accepted his proposal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much character introductions and explanations @x@ If you want to see anything else at the party, let me know. I'm definitely moving on from it next chapter!

Stiles had been right about a great many deal of things regarding the feast. It was grand, certainly, with platters of decadent food that lined the great table. It was awkward, a given since Stiles had been born of a well off but common household, never going hungry but never going without worry of the market prices. It was full of the murmurings of gossip, and even if Stiles could not hear the details of the quiet murmurings around him he certainly could hypothesize the contents of such conversation. The only thing Stiles hadn’t been exactly correct in was his placement of the table. He had not expected, even in his wildest daydreams, to be seated right next to the King.

Stiles sipped his watered wine, glancing down to his father who had been seated further down, the man in quiet discussion with Deaton. To Stiles’ left sat King Derek, his soon to be mate, who had not smiled the entire dinner. Across from him sat Princess Cora, his soon to be sister-in-law, who was currently staring serenely into her soup. To his right sat Lord Peter Hale, his soon to be uncle-in-law, who hadn’t stopped smirking since Derek had accepted his proposal.

“You’ll quite like it in the castle, I believe,” Lord Peter continued, helping himself to another turkey leg. “There’s a great many things to do, people to meet, events to plan and attend. Have you attended many events, as the Sheriff’s son?”

“Only garden parties that family friends hosted, my lord,” Stiles answered politely before taking another sip of wine. He wished it was stronger.

Derek shifted in his seat, and for the first time since sitting he spoke. “Do not call any man your lord but me, Stiles. You may call him Peter, or Lord Peter if you must, but never _your_ lord. I’m your only lord now.” 

Stiles glanced up to the King’s face and then back down to his hands. “Yes, my lord.”

Cora glared at her brother. “Derek, you’re scaring him. You don’t have to be rude about everything you say,” she muttered.

“No, it’s fine!” Stiles was quick to exclaim, nearly overturning his wineglass in the process. Luckily Lord Peter kept it steady with a quick hand. “Ah, I’m sorry my- I mean, I’m sorry Lord Peter, I did not mean to be so clumsy.”

“Ah, no my boy, it’s quite all right. No use crying over spilt wine, especially when it did not even have chance to spill,” Lord Peter replied easily. “But yes, in returning to our previous conversation, I do think there will be a great number of things to keep you occupied. Especially planning your bonding day, of course.”

“Ah… Yes, of course.” Stiles once more looked down to his food. “And what day would that be?”

The King was the one to answer. “The next full moon, so one month from now.” They had put off this feast a week to hold the event on tonight’s full moon, when all were closest to the Goddess and to their inner wolves.

“Ah, yes, of course.” Stiles fiddled with his napkin. He wanted to ask a great deal more, but was put off by the royal family as a whole. Would he be expected to invite others, or would only close family attend? Was the ceremony to last all day, or would it begin at dusk? And, most importantly, but least likely for Stiles to ever ask… Would the mating ritual conclude in actual mating?

Stiles peeked at the King from beneath his lashes. Yes, the man was handsome, still in his youth and full strength, but he had barely spoken to Stiles at all. Would the next month be filled with courting and wooing? But really, why did the King have to woo at all? Stiles had already said yes, he was already accepting the King’s claim. And somehow Stiles could not see the man considering that perhaps, before sharing each others bed, they should become better acquainted.

Well, Stiles may have been out of his element and taken by surprise, but he was not going to sit idly by. He only hesitated but for another moment before asking, “My lord, may I share some of your time in my family’s estate tomorrow?”

King Derek’s brows furrowed at the question. “I hardly see the point of us traveling all the way to the inner city to hold a conversation, Stiles. You are permitted to see me in the afternoon in my study. I will send a servant to collect you.”

“Ah, yes, of course,” Stiles agreed, nodding. “I can take our own carriages here then, I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.”

If anything the King’s eyes grew more confused. “I’m not sure why you would need a carriage to travel to my study. Your room is but a little ways from it.”

“My-my room?” Stiles asked, an unsteady feeling growing within him. “You mean… you mean my room in the castle?”

“Of course.” King Derek rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “You did not think that you would return home after accepting my offer, did you?”

“I-I had hoped to collect my things.” Stiles tried not to plead, but he could still hear it creeping into his voice. “I have certain books within my father’s library I was going to ask him to give me.”

“Any book in your father’s private collection will be within these castle’s walls. And if not, the librarians will make sure to purchase it. I can even have them create a private collection in the study I will have furnished for you.” King Derek’s voice was solid as he explained this, leaving not a crack for argument.

“My-my servants,” Stiles continued, growing frantic. “My friends. I must wish them goodbye. I hardly thought I was leaving them for good when I came here today.”

“You may write letters,” King Derek conceded, his frown growing impatient now. “They may also have leave to visit you.” He placed his elbows on the tables, leaning into his intertwined hands. “Stiles, I believe you do not yet understand your place. You are to be consort of the King, and as such you cannot be seen kissing kitchen maids goodbye or traveling the street to a friend’s house. You must maintain your image as highly as I maintain my own. To speak nothing of your safety, of course.” 

Stiles looked back down at his hands, his face growing pink with shame. “Yes, my lord. Of course, my lord. I had never considered such things…” He was never going to see his childhood home again. He wasn’t even going to get a month with his father, to adjust to the idea of living without the man. He was going to be stuck in the castle like some sort of prisoner, with no release date. All of the sudden Stiles wondered what he had really gotten himself into when he had accepted King Derek’s proposal.

The King leaned back in his chair, his frown easing in a flat smile of satisfaction. “All is well. You will soon learn.”

+++

After dinner there was to be dancing in the great hall, though the King did not surprise a soul by taking a seat at his throne. Stiles was not sure if he was suppose to sit as well, but was directed by Lord Peter to attend to the guests and speak to as many as he could. So around he went, meeting Lady so-and-so and Duke this-and-that, names slipping through his mind like water through a sieve. It wasn’t until he had escaped to the relative quiet of the refreshments table that he saw one of his oldest and best friends, Scott Mccall.

Scott had been but the bastard son of a midwife until his noble father’s death, whose will gave all titles and wealth to his only alpha child, which had just recently been found out to be Scott. Apparently biology played a more important role than proprietary in these matters, for no lord wanted his household run by a beta, so it seemed. Scott, who had been but a lowly servant until that moment, was suddenly whisked out of Stiles’ life and into the courts. 

For months little was passed between them but letters of Scott’s training as a nobleman, and then finally a confession that he had promised himself to the Lady Allison Argent, of the very same family that Scott had once served. Apparently he had been mooning over the girl ever since he had been accepted into the household, and it was only until his elevated status that he found the courage to court her. Allison had admitted that she too had admired him from afar, even when he was a servant, and had just been about to court the boy herself before he found out his inheritance. It was a very common love story, the fluff of a romance novel. Even the addition of Isaac was almost cliche.

When Scott had inherited his father’s estate he had also, unknown to him for several months, inherited an omega. A lesser merchant by the name of Lahey had become indebted to the McCall family, and in a pitch of desperation he had offered his son as collateral, shipping the boy off from the port city which they lived. Little did he know his mistake, for the son, who was suppose to be but a mere a servant to the McCall family, soon showed himself to be an omega. As master of the young man, Scott held every right to be paid Isaac’s bond price, no matter what arguments Sir Lahey made.

What no one had expected was for Allison to find such fierce devotion towards the young man, and soon after, such unbridled passion. After listening to Isaac’s fears of leaving the side of the master and mistress he had grown to love, she had spoken to her mate about allowing Isaac to join their bond. Though hesitant at first, Scott soon found his friendship for the young man turning to romantic love. The bond was forged, a perfect harmony of partners; alpha, beta, omega.

When Stiles spotted Scott and waved him over the man was with Isaac but not Allison, the two wearing matching suits of a fine wine red, Scott’s consisting of a full jacket and brass buttons while Isaac wore a less formal vest with a white undershirt. While clearly a matching set, it was easy to tell who was the alpha of the two.

“Scott, my friend, it is good to see you!” Stiles said, giving his friend a quick hug and pat on the back.

Scott seemed caught off guard at the gesture, but his smile was genuine. “Whoa, I had forgotten what a real hello felt like. You won’t see many hugs in court.”

Stiles chuckled. “Well you will now, if I’m to be stuck in court.” He turned to Isaac. “It’s nice to see you too, Isaac, though we haven’t had much chance to meet, have we?”

Isaac gave a coy smile. “Going to scent mark me too, Stiles? I’ll be shocked if King Derek doesn’t at least shoot a glare our way next time we walk near the throne.”

Stiles paled at the thought. “Do… do you think he’ll actually be angry?”

“Perhaps,” Isaac answered with a shrug. “But since you initiated it he can do no more than pout.” He clasped hands with Scott, giving him a fond smile. “Alphas always are over protective, at the beginning at least.”

“If this has to do with Sir Harris grabbing your ass,” Scott mumbled, frowning in embarrassment, “then you should feel lucky I _only_ punched him in the face. Allison was close to getting out her bow. She always keeps one in the carriage, you know. My god, I don’t even want to think what she’ll be like once pregnancy hormones set in.”

“Allisons _pregnant_?!” Stiles exclaimed.

Scott’s horrified face was enough to tell it all, but Isaac was quite helpful by adding, “And _that_ was suppose to be a secret. Good one, oh mighty alpha.”

“Oh shit, Stiles, you can’t let her know you know that,” Scott hissed, grabbing Stiles’ shoulder and leaning in close, eyes frantic as if he were going to catch his mate lurking. “She wanted us to tell you all together, and then she said that it would take away from your big night so we were going to invite you to dinner this week…”

Stiles nodded, solemn faced. “I swear to you by our friendship, she won’t be suspect a thing.”

A few minutes later Allison walked towards them with a beautiful, red smile to match her beautiful, red dress, only to stop, frown, glare at Scott and say, “You _told_ him?”

+++

Before Stiles could speak with this friends for even a few more minutes, Peter appeared quite suddenly and, after proper introductions of course, strongly advised that perhaps omega Stilinski would like to talk to his other guests? So Stiles left with a fond farewell and a promise to send the McCalls an invitation to lunch soon.

After a few more rounds of introductions and idle chatter, Stiles once again saw a friendly face. Lady Lydia, formerly Mistress Lydia. She was decked out in a soft lavender, with flowers thread into her hair. Her smile was just the correct level of politeness, but her eyes held mischief as Stiles kissed her on the cheek.

“Sweet Lydia, it has been quite too long since I’ve called upon you,” Stiles proclaimed theatrically, sweeping his hand. “Those brutes of mates you’re bonded with haven't given you too much trouble, have they?” 

“Nothing I haven’t been able to train out of them, I assure you,” Lydia answered smoothly. “And have no fear, I doubt they’ll show up anytime soon. I assume they’re in some room, necking. Jackson has just gotten off his first heat, and Aiden is still feeling a little… possessive.”

“And that, my dearest lady, was entirely too much information.” Stiles couldn’t help his grimace.

Lydia rolled her eyes and held out a hand. “By the way, you may have the honor of a dance. I am certain you were going to get around to asking me for one eventually, so I felt I would simply cut to the chase and accept.”

Stiles kissed her gloved fingers. “Ah, you know me all too well. The pleasure is mine.”

Lydia was, as with most things, classically trained in dancing. Her father had been a proud merchant, but Stiles was well aware that as Lydia grew so did her father’s empire. An obvious genius, Lydia wanted nothing less than to rule the world. As she climbed the social ladder on mere skill alone, she was able to meet and enrapture a young lord by the name of Aiden. His twin brother Ethan had been promised the family estates, and so Lydia made him an offer to add Aiden's powerful name to her bountiful riches.

Not wanting to be outmatched in anything, Lydia soon set her eyes in procuring an omega, and thus an in to the most renowned social circles. When the ambassador’s son Jackson and his friend Danny were shipped home the courts became abuzz at not one, but two new omegas within Beacon Hills. That very day Stiles entered Scott’s parlor to see Allison and Lydia taking tea, Lydia dreamily sighing, “I want one.” When Allison prompted which omega she wanted, Lydia had simply replied, “The one interested in women, of course.”

She was quick to capture Jackson in her clutches. Aiden, hot headed but easily manipulated (or so Lydia proclaimed, Stiles could barely stand to be in the room with either of her mates) was quick to accept Jackson into their bond, and within the span of a season they were mated. Which really hadn’t been surprising. If Lady Lydia wanted something, well, she damn well took it. For all his years of mooning after her, Stiles had come to respect that he could never claim such a woman. And, in hindsight, it was much better to be on equal footing as her friend, rather than a mate on a leash.

“Have you heard about Lady Erica’s return from the southern lands?” Lydia asked, her form perfect as she led Stile through the next set.

“Which one is she?”

Lydia scoffed. “Really Stiles, I told you this gossip months ago. You really must keep up, especially now that you are to be mate to the King.”

“Yes, well, I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

Lydia glanced over to an exotic pair, a man of dark skin and a fair woman of light hair. They were both in colorful garb with bold patterns, robes wrapped around them. The woman had her hair wrapped in a cloth, piled high on her head. Both were swathed in jewels. Stiles had seen many dressed this way in the merchant district, and had even talked to quite a few. He loved nothing more than the adventure of travel, though he suppose those daydreams would have to be stored away now that he was to be consort to the King.

“Lady Erica was one of King Derek’s most trusted knights,” Lydia explained softly as they continued to dance. “She traveled to escort Lord Boyd, the new ambassador of his people, to the city. They were ambushed by bandits, and it’s reported that Lady Erica saved his life. He was reportedly smitten, and after months of courting he finally convinced her to come back to his country and become his mate. It was quite a scandal at the time, especially considering they are both alphas.”

Stiles raised his brow at that. Alphas bonding, unlike betas, was almost unheard of. It was said that without proper dominance an alpha would never find satisfaction from a bond. As a rule it was highly discouraged and tended to make people feel uncomfortable, though some of the more eccentric alphas throughout history had been able to make their way in society despite of it.

“He dotes on her, of course,” Lydia whispered again, answering Stiles unasked question. “She wants for nothing, has more diamonds in her hair than most merchants in their safes. I have never heard of them bicker, and by all reports they seem happy.”

Stiles nodded. “Do you think they’ll take an omega?”

Lydia chuckled, not bothering to suppress her mirth at Stiles’ questioning look. “Oh yes, there has been speak of it. In fact, the gossip was that they were going to court _you_.”

Upon hearing such news Stiles once again looked at the couple. The adoration in Boyd’s eyes shined as bright as his jewels, and Erica’s devilish grin held strong as she laced her hand with her mate’s. Stiles couldn’t help but wonder on the possibilities. If Lord Peter had not proposed he married King Derek, would he have come to love these two alphas? He could almost see himself folding easily between them. And of course there would be travel to far off places, exotic sights and foods, adventure at every corner. A knight and an ambassador…

“You should get to know them both soon,” Lydia advised as the dance came to an end. “She’s one of King Derek’s closest friends. I’m sure you’ll meet soon enough.”

+++

Once again Lord Peter showed out of seemingly thin air to whisk Stiles away, of course not without properly complimenting Lady Lydia first, which was properly received. Another whirlwind of faces, without a true name connecting, until Stiles met another that he knew. Glad for the reprieve, Stiles made it a point to sit Danny down and have a relaxing, long conversation.

“I know we haven’t spoken much,” Stiles began, taking his first sip of wine in what seemed like hours. Dutifully watered down, of course, so he would not grow tipsy. “But seeing as we’ll both soon be omegas of the court, I was thinking a conversation would soon be due in any case.”

Danny’s smile was as calming as dimpled. “Ethan doesn’t like to leave the estate much. Matthew always wants to come into the city, but Ethan says that it’s far too tiring for his tastes. I do miss the society though, even if we have friends often over.”

Stiles knew a good deal about Danny through Lydia, who was not only the man’s sister-in-law but also mate to his best friend. He was a native from the Sunny Isles, brought to Beacon Hills by request of Jackson. They had both been born and bred within those lands, and grew up as childhood friends, despite Jackson’s position as an ambassador’s son. Jackson had been required by law to present himself to the King when he was discovered to be an omega, and had just been haughty enough to demand his friend come with him.

Danny’s golden skin and good charm made him an instant favorite of the court, and he was wooed and courted by many. Unlike many omegas, however, Lydia made claim that he was only interested in men. Lord Ethan soon become besotted with the young man, but was too shy to proclaim his intentions. For weeks Danny had not known of his existence.

It was only the scheming of Lord Matthew that brought the pair together. A younger sibling to many and mere beta, Lord Matthew had his eyes set on an alpha with a title. Lydia surmised that he discovered Ethan’s interest in Danny, and quickly set himself in the omega’s affections. It was only when he procured Danny’s interest to bond that he proclaimed his ‘feelings’ for Lord Ethan, offering that the three mate.

It had been quite the little scandal, as many clearly saw Lord Matthew’s intentions. Lord Ethan, mindful of Danny’s upcoming heat, and kept them within his estate for months. Rumor had it that there was little love between the alpha and beta, though Danny was dotted and spoiled to no end. If Stiles knew the man better his personal curiosity would have definitely lead to a few choice questions about the bond, but he was not socially inept enough to dare such line of discussion.

So instead he asked, “You know a great deal about the court though, don’t you Danny?”

“You could say that,” Danny agreed, “I spent a good many months here by the courtesy of the King. What would you wish to know?”

Stiles bit his lip. “Well, I haven’t heard much about the King. Just the usual rumors, that he’s secluded and mysterious. But the man himself? Though I am promised to him, I truly know next to nothing.” Stiles smiled tightly. “You can see my concern, can you not?”

“Very clearly,” Danny replied softly. “I did not much speak to him, but I can tell you what I know. He is an honorable man who is good for his word. He cares for his people, and not much for finery or wine. I have never heard a dishonorable word about him. Well…” And here Danny leaned forward, his voice lowering to a whisper. “Besides for his temper, of course.”

“His temper?” Stiles asked with gulp.

Danny nodded. “The servants are said to switch constantly on who serves him, for the stress is far too much for one to handle at any length of time. I hear that grown alphas quake at the thought of angering the king.”

“Is he…” Stiles hesitated at his, glancing around to make sure no one was near before whispering, “Is he violent?”

“Oh, Stiles.” Danny’s voice was full of kind pity as he placed his hand on top of Stiles’ clenched fingers. “No, I have never heard him strike another outside of combat. The only thing he raises is his voice. And trust me, he is not likely to grow angry towards _you_.”

Stiles laugh was as watery as his wine. “You may not know me very well, but I can assure you that I am _just_ the type of man who will bring the King to temper.”

But Danny squeezed Stiles’ fingers softly before explaining, “You’re to be his omega. He’ll feel nothing but love for you, once you’re bonded. He’ll do everything to protect you, to make you happy. You may not think it now, but he’ll spoil you like none other. It’s in his blood.”

Well, Stiles knew for certain the King was definitely going spoil him in at least one way. It just wouldn’t be with trinkets and sweets.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _King Derek was seated at a desk with a serious frown, papers in front of him and a fountain pen in his hand. His eyes caught on Stiles’ like a clasp, and he did not avert his gaze as he told the servant, “Very good. You may leave now.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man I wanna get to the good bits but I have auction stuff to write now *cries* Please do not expect the next update soon as I must work on other things uvu

“Remind me again why I’m taking a bath?” Stiles asked as the servant poured hot water over his head. It wasn’t bad enough that he had been forced to bathe in the winter, but he couldn’t even do it alone. Did discovering he was an omega suddenly put him more at risk while doing independent tasks? Was he going to slip and break his neck if there wasn’t a servant to help him? Though in all honesty Stiles was mostly aware that as a future noble he would just have to get used to such things.

“I’m but a servant, my lord,” the beta answered, a young woman of curling blonde hair who kept her eyes lowered. “I just do as I’m bid.”

Stiles fidgeted uncomfortably as she began to wash his hair, the feeling of foreign fingers odd against his scalp. “May I ask you your name?”

The fingers hesitated for a moment before resuming their work. “You may, my lord. My name is Heather.”

Stiles turned around to meet her eyes, and thought her a very pretty face, heart shaped with smooth skin, her eyes widening as their gazes met. “Well then, Heather, would you mind if I asked your opinion then? If you were not directly told?” He smiled easily, trying to disarm her uneasy eyes. “After all, you’ve lived in the castle for longer than I, and probably know much more of the residence here. I’ve only been educated with rumor.”

Heather’s shoulders squared at that. “I won’t speak against anyone here, my lord. You can be assured of that. My masters are good people, noble people.”

Stiles turned back around, settling more into the tub as Heather continued to scrub. “I’m not saying that. I’m not asking for you to curse them out or anything.” In all honesty, Stiles was just in the same boat. The repercussions of speaking ill towards his future household would bring nothing but trouble. “I’m merely asking if you had any thoughts as to why, though I had just bathed before arriving here, it was asked that I bathe.” Stiles had no idea who had ordered it as well, though he had no doubt it was a Hale.

Heather was only quiet in return, and Stiles decided it was time to change tactics.

“I’ll need someone I can trust, now that I am to live here,” Stiles continued conversationally, his fingers flicking water. “Someone who can tell me what to expect, what I should and shouldn’t do. Someone who can make sure I don’t take any missteps…” He leaned back, their gazes once more meeting as he looked upwards. “I’m sure you can see that such a person would help everyone involved.”

Heather still looked unsure, but she gently tilted Stiles’ head forward and began to speak as she rinsed his hair of suds, her voice low but clear. “The King himself made demands of this bath. He gave no reason, though there is talk amongst the staff. The older ones think he’s being childish and jealous. The younger ones think it’s romantic.” She said the last sentence with a bit of disdain.

“Ah,” Stiles said. So it was just as he thought. Isaac’s warnings of scent markings were proving to be true, though the King wasn’t being as improper as to scent Stiles himself. Rather a bath, he supposed, than some of the more… barbaric ways to cover a scent. “And what do you think then, Heather?”

Once more Stiles was greeted with silence, and he almost gave up hope for any straight answer when the young woman said, quiet and tense, “I think that he’s scared.”

Stiles allowed himself to mull that over for awhile. The King, alpha among alphas, scared? “Well,” he replied steadily, closing his eyes and allowing his body to sink into the hot water, “he’s not the only one.”

+++

A servant came to collect Stiles that very afternoon, walking him to the King’s study and knocking lightly on the door.

“Enter,” came the King’s gruff voice from inside.

The servant opened the door, turning to allow full view of the omega and bowed as he announced, “Sir Stiles to see you as requested, my liege.”

King Derek was seated at a desk with a serious frown, papers in front of him and a fountain pen in his hand. His eyes caught on Stiles’ like a clasp, and he did not avert his gaze as he told the servant, “Very good. You may leave now.”

Stiles was motioned to enter the room and the door shut behind him, the quiet thud seeming to echo. The study was a good size room, with a large iron fireplace and wide tapestries of forest scenes to keep it warm. There were bookshelves lined against the walls and a rich, dark red rug beneath Stiles’ feet. The large ash desk was placed in the middle so that faced the door directly, with a good many number of papers stacked neatly on top of it. Derek himself, seated in a high back chair, was as stoic as he was last night. It was evident that the King’s serious demeanor was not indeed a public facade.

The King motioned to a chair on front of his desk. “Have a seat.”

Stiles sat on a chair that wasn’t particularly uncomfortable or comfortable, close to the fireplace but not as close as the King. “Thank you, my lord,” Stiles said, because it seemed the polite thing to do when you were offered a seat.

Derek clasped his hands together and planted his elbows on the desk. “You wished to speak with me?”

It was a very delicate business, Stiles supposed, wording this just right. He had been going through lines in his head on the way here, and was quite proud of himself when he managed to say exactly what he had decided, with polite confidence and not nary a stutter. “I was hoping that we may grow to know each other over this month. We haven’t even spoken to each other before yesterday, and yet we’re to be bonded soon. I was merely hoping we may get to know each other better through some conversation...”

There had been many ways Stiles had feared the King would reply. Saying the idea was idiotic, unnecessary, a waste of time. So built up were all of these rejections, it was quite an astonishment when the King merely shrugged and said, “Ask away.”

Such an astonishment that Stiles hadn’t really planned any questions to ask the King. “Well, I, well… What’s your favorite color?”

An impressive, royal brow was raised, and perhaps the faintest hints of a smirk. “That is what you wish to discuss?”

Stiles bristled a bit at that. Sure, it wasn’t the best of questions, but it was the common go to when getting to know another. No harm in playing along... “It was merely a question. Fine, I’ll do you one better. What do you enjoy?”

“Hunting,” the King answered simply.

Stiles barely suppressed the need to ask whether the King meant on horseback or in the fur, but felt it was impolite. Instead he said, “You should see Lady Allison with a crossbow. She outmatches any other. Many have seen her but a mere beta, and many have cursed themselves for thinking anything mere about her.” Bragging about his sister-in-law, or as he came to see her, seemed an easy way to continue conversation.

“Lady Allison? Who is her alpha?”

“Scott McCall, another of my good friends. They took the omega Isaac into their bond just recently.” Yes, this was good territory. Friends of good name who Stiles could speak easily of.

“Ah, yes, McCall. The secret son who rose to power after his father’s death.” King Derek’s voice seemed to hold just a sliver of humor at that. “Tell me, who was his mother?”

Stiles eyes narrowed at such a question, but he could see little harm in answering. Scott himself had never been shy about his heritage. “Melissa Moonchild.”

“Moonchild,” Derek echoed, and his smile was slight. “Certainly not a noble name.”

There was no question now of if the King’s tone was good natured. Stiles could barely hold his tongue enough to answer, “No, but a good one. Her name is just as common as mine.”

It wasn’t at all a polite reply, but neither was it as rude as he had first wanted to answer. Moonchild was well known to be the name given to orphans raised in the temple of the Moon Goddess. For a man who proclaimed himself a servant of the Goddess, King Derek did not seem to think very highly of her children.

“Not quite so common, I should think,” King Derek was quick to reply, his voice still easy. “The Stilinskis have protected this city for generations. A lot of honor, tied to a name your proclaim as common.”

“No more honor than Moonchild, I assure you,” Stiles argued, his eyes shining. He could take insults to himself with not a care, but no one spoke ill of the woman Stiles considered a second mother. “For every of your citizens’ lives my father saves, Mistress Melissa has healthily delivered many more of your citizens’ babes. For every man prosecuted by the law, it is but a shadow next to the many ill she has healed. Your people speak Melissa's name with reverence, more so than they speak my father’s name with respect.”

King Derek’s eyes had grown darker as Stiles had continued his rant, and his shoulders were as stiff as the stone his castle was made. “Quite the woman you proclaim her to be.” King Derek’s voice was now strained, almost chilly. He was no long speaking down to a willful child, instead answering the insult of a young man. “Yet of a background that would allow a bonded man into her bed.”

Stiles felt the heat from his words as they poured from his lips. “The background which you speaks is the priestesshood of the Goddess you claim to obey. And if Melissa Moonchild, but a commoner woman, allowed Lord McCall into her chambers, then was it not doubly a fault of pride for such an exalted noble? After all, it was _he_ who was not able to adhere to his vows, and to not be able to keep it in his trousers.”

He had never asked Melissa or Scott about what had happened in the past, but he knew enough of the Moonchilds (for indeed Scott was a Moonchild for far longer than he was a McCall) to know that there was a bitterness there, seated on the deceit of the noble McCall. Scott had almost rejected his father’s titles, only to be convinced my Stiles that the biggest fuck you he could give his shit of a father was to take his money and give Melissa and himself a good life.

King Derek’s face held a contempt that seemed only fit for creatures that you gave no second thought to crushing beneath your boot. “You have a quick tongue, Stiles.”

Stiles merely shrugged, his anger far from cooled. “If rumor serves true, it will hopefully serve a match for your quick temper.”

Derek was silent as they continued to glare at each other, allowing a few moments to pass before very pointedly breaking his gaze, reaching for a paper and his pen, and looking down at its contents before saying, “If that is all. You know your way to your room, do you not?”

Stiles’ lips parted in shock. He was being dismissed? Like some dog that had overstayed his welcome? His jaw clenched as he stood. Well, two could certainly play that that game. If Derek didn’t wish to speak with him, well, Stiles wasn’t going to disappoint his liege. He didn’t say a word as he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

+++

Stiles was never good at the silent treatment. He was a talker, always was, and it generally didn’t take him long to crack. Especially when he was mad at a friend. The only way he had ever learned to sustain it was to rant to someone about it. Though of course this usually lead to being told something reasonable about how Stiles had to be the mature one, but still, ranting was cathartic. And who was he going to rant to about the King besides his closest friend?

The problem, naturally, was that he could no longer go to Scott’s house. The only alternative was the write and ask Scott to visit him, which proved difficult when Stiles refused to speak to the King. Any servant he asked about it would simply direct him to the King’s study, or if they were feeling particularly helpful offer to ask the King themselves. Which, given the King’s oh-so-lovely mood at the moment, was about as likely to receive a positive answer as the Sheriff was to stick to the diet plan Stiles had outlined.

So, after the fifth or so person, Stiles amended himself. Oh, but the King was obviously so busy right now. Stiles had just called upon him, there was no reason to do so again. Who else might he be able to talk to? And that was how he ended up in the study of Peter Hale.

Now being alone with King Derek had been perhaps not the highest level of propriety, but not completely in the eyes of society a misstep. He was not being courted by King Derek, for he had already been promised to him. It would not seem amiss for intimacies to be exchanged, though sleeping in the King’s chambers would of course not be allowed until the ceremony. To be alone with Lord Peter however, a full grown, unbonded alpha who was not his betrothed, was more of a stretch. The nobleman did not dismiss the servant who brought Stiles, instead motioning for the beta to stand in the back as Stiles took a seat.

“What brings me the honor of your presence?” asked Lord Peter as he sank easily into his chair. His study was smaller than King Derek’s, with darker tapestries of moons and stars. There were fewer books and thinner bookshelves, and the fireplace was smaller and flickering. Despite Lord Peter’s friendly smile, the entire room seemed far less cozy than the King’s.

Stiles squirmed slightly in his seat, which was at least comfortable. “I wish to request the presence of my friend, Scott McCall.”

“Ah,” Lord Peter replied, though he made no move to write such an invitation down. “And the reason for your request?”

“I simply wish to speak with him. It does not have to be immediately, there is no urgency.” Stiles silently wished for Lord Peter to simply leave it at that.

“I really do wish I could help you in this endeavor, Stiles,” Lord Peter said with a regretful frown, “but my nephew may see fault in such an invitation. Scott McCall is an alpha, is he not? It may seem… improper, to seek his counsel alone.”

Stiles could barely contain the groan at such a thought. He had hoped that Scott’s bonded status would allow him a bit more freedom, but that did not seem to be the case in front of nobility. “I think you misunderstood me,” Stiles began, quick to change tactics, “I did not mean for him to come alone. I promised him and his mates an invitation to the castle, and was hoping for a luncheon together.” Scott alone would naturally have been the preference, but he would take all three of the McCalls if it meant having a friendly face to speak to.

Lord Peter tapped his temple as he said, “Ah, of course! I did not mean to misunderstand you, Stiles. Yes, of course you would wish to see your close friends when such strange circumstances are thrust upon you.” He took a clean sheet of parchment and began to write a note. “I’ll see to it at once they are invited, and will send news to you when a date has been settled.”

“Thank you.” Stiles sagged into the chair, his nervousness dissipating in a tiring wave.

“Oh yes, by all hopes they should dine with us soon.”

“Dine with _us_?” Stiles asked, his shoulders suddenly tightening.

Lord Peter finished signing the note with a little flourish. “Why, yes. Of course. I am very excited to meet those you consider your friends. I’m sure my nephew shares the same sentiment.”

Well, there was no chance of speaking frankly of the King to his friends now. But there was a way, perhaps better than the silent treatment, to get back for the King’s rudeness… The idea gave Stiles a mischievous grin, before he was able to school it away and ask, “Would you mind amending your note, Lord Peter? I wish to invite another of McCall’s household to the dinner.”

Lord Peter’s smile seemed knowing as he nodded his assent. “No trouble at all, Stiles. But you really must learn to call me Peter. No need for titles among family, eh?”

+++

“You really should try these biscuits,” Stiles insisted, grabbing the plate. “They remind me of the ones you used to make, though of course they’re not nearly as good.”

Melissa smiled at the offer and took one for her plate, though her eyes crinkled in suspicion. “Thank you, Stiles.”

“I thought you hated Mom’s biscuits,” Scott said from across the table. “You said they were hard as bricks.”

“Not all the time,” Stiles answered, nose scrunching at his friend’s betrayal. “Not when she had the proper ingredients.”

“It wasn’t the ingredients, it was the stove,” argued the Sheriff as he piled turkey into his plate. Stiles had forbid him from going near the ham, much to the man’s chagrin. “That stove was always acting up. I should have put the beta who sold it to you in chains.”

“If you arrested every seller who ripped their customers off, the entirety of the Market would be rotting in your cells,” Melissa answered with a smile. “And then where would our fair city be?”

“Better off, I should think,” the Sheriff answered with a wink.

“Is it truly a problem?” asked the King, and suddenly there were no more smiles at the table.

This was the first time the King had spoken since bidding his guests welcome, which had been nearly fifteen minutes ago. Though at first conversation had been strained and uneasy, it seemed to have been silently agreed upon to ignore the King’s presence and simply pretend he wasn’t there. Which proved hard to do, naturally, when he spoke to the table.

“It’s just a joke,” Stiles answered tensely after a few moments, not bothering to look up from his plate. He was still mad at his betrothed, and hadn’t bothered to speak directly to the man in several days. “The market will always be a bit corrupt. It’s just how it goes.”

“Stiles, manners” Melissa murmured quietly.

“My liege,” Stiles tacked on, his face the picture of stubborn unwillingness.

Derek didn’t see fit to reply to that, and simply gave Stiles a silent look, his hazel eyes cold.

“What I think my son meant to say, your grace,” the Sheriff was quick to amend with a stern look at Stiles, “was that we were just having a bit of a joke, that’s all. The city’s Market is as honorable as you can expect a market to be.”

“I see,” was all Derek said in reply as he cut into his food.

The silence was near deafening afterwards. Stiles could do nothing but blame the awkwardness on the king. This was the one chance in weeks to see all of his favorite people, the ones he considered his family. He almost regretted that Peter had been called away on business, and that Cora was suffering a headache that night. Perhaps Derek wouldn’t feel so out of place among his own family.

“Have you thought about your ceremony?” asked Melissa, wiping her mouth delicately with her napkin. She had taken to nobility with grace.

“I’m not really involved with those plans,” Stiles answered loftily, picking up a piece of green bean only to plomp it back on the plate.

“You haven’t asked upon them,” said the King with a hint of impatience. “Our Mistress of Ceremonies would gladly tell you her plans if you asked.”

“And if I requested to change them?” Stiles asked, giving his betrothed a cool stare. “Would I be just as welcomed to do that?”

King Derek nodded slowly. “Within reason.”

“Within reason,” Stiles echoed back with barely constrained mockery. “Naturally, of course. Wouldn’t want to have a true say in my own ceremony, after all.”

Before Derek had chance to reply, Melissa cut in with a decisive, “Do not be so stubborn, Stiles. Naturally there would be constraints to a royal bonding ceremony that no one would have the say to change. Or do you think yourself so important that tradition must break for your whims?”

Stiles opened his mouth to reply, only to let out a surprised croak.

“She has a point, Stiles,” came the Sheriff, who looked none too pleased with his son. “You’re acting childish here. You should have spoken to the Master of Ceremonies days ago and become acquainted with what would be expected of you. No need to take out your own irresponsibility on Der- the King.”

What was this? Did Stiles’ ears deceive him? His own family, siding with the current bane of his existence? If only they knew of the things that Derek had said! Stiles looked towards his friends for help, his eyes pleading.

“Oh!” Allison exclaimed, her fork inches from her mouth before she placed in on her plate. “Oh, I’m sure it will be lovely. I remember both my ceremonies were some of the best memories I have.”

“Allison looked radiant,” continued Isaac, setting his fork down as well. “Never had I seen a finer vision of beauty. And Scott was very dashing, it was quite moving.”

Scott was currently maniacally trying to chew his food in order to say something as well, and in the process was looking like an over eager chipmunk.

Stiles sighed, knowing that there was no way he was going to win this battle, especially with both his father and Melissa on Derek’s side. Why did he even ask for them to be included in this dinner? There was no way out but to sullenly say, “I’ll have a talk with the Mistress of Ceremonies tomorrow.”

The conversation dropped for a few moments after that. Then the King leaned forward and asked Melissa, with all seriousness, “Can you teach me how to do that?”

Everyone at the table laughed quietly at that, and even Stiles couldn’t help but crack a smile.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The King’s chambers was not a place Stiles had thought he would see until his bonding day. It was as large and impressive as you could expect a King’s room to be, with the rugs and tapestries and a four poster bed that could fit a whole family. Once again Stiles was offset with the warm reds and yellows present, for he had always thought that the cool colors the King usually chose to wear was more befitting the man’s chill demeanor, not the warm glow of the room he was currently in the doorway of._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, apology time. I have been super, super busy/stressed with school lately, but I did manage to find a free moment to finish this up. I'm going to warn you guys that I won't be updating for at least another month, aka my spring break. I have student teaching for the next three weeks, so please don't think I don't want to write! I just, simply, cannot OTL
> 
> That being said, I should have a oneshot up within a week or so! So look out for that!

“You cannot simply walk down the aisle!” said Mistress Danielle as she swept her train to the side. “You must glide!” She held a hand up to the stained glass above them, depicting a full moon and a tall tower with a star atop it, the symbol of the city. “You will be the center of attention, and as such you must make yourself the epitome of grace.”

Stiles caught himself from tripping as he walked forward. “Right, grace, right. I’ll work on that.”

Mistress Danielle placed a hand on her hip as she turned towards him. “Yes you will, Master Stiles. I’ll see to that.”

Stiles had absolutely no doubt about it. Mistress Danielle was renowned for her sharp tongue. Her parents had come from the southern lands, but she had been born and bred within the city. From a merchant’s daughter to Mistress of Ceremonies, she had climbed to the position herself.

“And of course,” she continued, her long robes swishing as she turned back towards the altar stepping forward slowly as Stiles tagged along, “this is where the High Priestess and his grace will be standing. You will walk down the aisle with your father, and he will present you before your new alpha before taking a seat.”

The altar before them was made of silver, the city’s symbol carved into it, the star atop the tower set with a large diamond. Here would stand the High Priestess in her robes of silver and white, her eyes large and as dark as the night from which the moon hung. Or, well, at least that’s how Scott always described her. Stiles had never seen the woman up close.

“You will stand here,” said Mistress Danielle, grabbing Stiles’ shoulders and forcing him into position, “and the king will stand before you.” She took the place of the king. “You will hold hands throughout the ceremony.” Her skin was warm as she demonstrated, clasping Stiles’ hands lightly. “And then, of course, the ceremony will end with the bite.”

Stiles tightened his shoulders to suppress the shiver almost over taking him. The bite… Everyone knew about it, that it was going to happen. It was an exclusively alpha habit, and the scar was guaranteed to never heal. The ultimate sign of ownership, right there along Stiles’ jugular. He was less than thrilled with the idea.

“And afterwards?” Stiles asked, his eyes serious.

Mistress Danielle released his hands with a toothy smile. “Then we celebrate! Food, wine, music! I will spare no expense for the reception, you’ll have no fear. Your friends will give you congratulations, your family will kiss you on the cheek, and everyone will be merry!”.

Stiles nodded, but he somehow couldn’t see the last statement happening. After all, Derek was going to attend the bonding, wasn’t he?

+++

“Stiles, must you slump on the table like that?” asked Lydia as she sipped her tea. “It’s really not proper, and you’ll get your shirt all wrinkled.”

“Let it wrinkle,” Stiles muttered darkly, the table muffling his voice. “Let all my shirts wrinkle and my stupid ribbons smudge and my shitty wardrobe burn for all I care. I’m sick of this. I’d rather walk around shirtless than in one more get up.”

“Oh, stop being such a whiny pup. Most would kill to get one of our outfits, much less your whole wardrobe.” Lydia flicked her hair with a gloved hand. “Besides, you’re avoiding the subject. I asked you how things were going with the King, and if you think simply planting your face on the table is answer enough, well, you obviously must have forgotten who you’re talking to.”

Stiles looked up with a scowl. “I would give you all the gossip if I had any to give, Lydia, but the answer is I don’t. We haven’t spoken since the last time.”

She raised a brow. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but was that not also the first time you spoke to him alone?”

“Sometimes you don’t need a second impression,” he grumbled as he gulped down his tea. God, he was sick of sipping, and eating slowly, and minding his manners. That had always been reserved for dinner parties and important guests. Now he couldn’t go a meal without worrying after them.

“Well you’ll have a lot of time to talk, I daresay, once you’re bonded for life.” Lydia dabbed her mouth with her napkin. “You know, if you really do hate him so much you can always break off the engagement.”

“What, and leave the city? Leave you all behind? You _know_ the moment the King asked for me that I had to say yes. There’s no way I could live within his own city after rejecting him, absolutely no way.” He rubbed his head frantically. “Especially no way now that we’re two weeks from the wedding. He would probably claw my throat out the moment I even suggested such a thing.”

“Well aren’t you being melodramatic,” Lydia tutted before placing a bonbon into her mouth. “If you’ve already talked yourself into staying, at least be reasonable about it. Talk to the man. Get to know him. It doesn’t matter if you don’t like him _now_ , all alphas are changeable. It’s if you know him well enough not to go insane in the interim that’s the issue.”

Stiles clasped Lydia’s hands, the lilac gloves soft. “Lydia, can you not break off your bond with Jackson? Take me instead?” he pleaded, his eyes wide. “I’d do whatever you told me, wear whatever outfit you wanted!”

Lydia shook off his hands with a sigh. “Jackson already does that, and complains a lot less than you would about it. Besides, you hate Aiden. I’d have to give them both up to be with you, and I’m sorry but you’re just not worth it.”

Stiles clasped his heart. “My lady, you wound me so.”

She poked a finger at his chest, her eyes hard. “Talk with your alpha. Get to know him. Or, at the very least, get used to him. You’re going to sleep in the man’s bed, after all. You can at least have a little conversation beforehand.”

+++

The King’s chambers was not a place Stiles had thought he would see until his bonding day. It was as large and impressive as you could expect a King’s room to be, with the rugs and tapestries and a four poster bed that could fit a whole family. Once again Stiles was offset with the warm reds and yellows present, for he had always thought that the cool colors the King usually chose to wear was more befitting the man’s chill demeanor, not the warm glow of the room he was currently in the doorway of.

King Derek waved away the servant without looking up from his document. He was without jacket or vest, just a simple white undershirt with the collar and cuffs unclasped. He was sitting on a plush couch, his arm sprawled out over the back. It wasn’t that Stiles was particularly embarrassed or anything. He wasn’t a blushing child, about to stumble over his own two feet because of a handsome alpha in front of him. It just seemed oddly improper, that was all. A conversation in the light of day within the King’s study was one thing, but in his private chambers, at dusk, with the firelight flickering...

“I didn’t mean to disturb you, my lord,” Stiles said with a slight bow. “I didn’t know the servant would run off to ask you as soon as I requested an audience…”

King Derek merely shrugged as he shuffled his papers. “It is no matter to me. If you have something to say, it is best to say it now.”

Stiles nodded, his fists clenching. “Yes, well, about that- I just wanted to try to clear the air, as it were.”

King Derek looked up and gave Stiles a long stare before he motioned to the place next to him. “Please, have a seat then.”

Ok, Stiles could do this. He had sat on hundreds of couches with hundreds of people. He had crammed into carriages with friends and relatives. And as he sat down it wasn’t even that close. There was a whole two hands width between them. Sure, he may be able to feel the heat of King Derek’s leg, or see the individual hairs of the man’s stubble, or smell the slight alpha musk wafting from his exposed neck… But, all in all, it wasn’t like Stiles was feeling nervous. He was an adult, after all.

It took Stiles so long to convince himself that he wasn’t embarrassed that King Derek was the first to speak, placing the documents to the side to say, “I would like to apologize for giving insult to Mistress Melissa. She is a fine woman, and I should not have allowed myself to have misgivings simply because of her position.”

Stiles shook his head, though even remembering the incident still made him feel annoyed. “It’s fine, your grace.” Before he had chance to continue, a calloused hand clasped his chin and forced him to look straight into hard, hazel eyes.

“Why do you not call me by my name?” asked the King softly, and Stiles’ could feel the heat of his breath as he spoke.

Stiles’ wrenched his chin away, clenching his teeth. “Because you have not given me leave to do else wise, your grace,” Stiles retorted hotly. He was not a plaything to be handled at whim, even if the mere touch of the alpha sent shivers along his skin.

“We are to be bonded. I would think such things would not have to be spoken aloud,” the King replied, though there was not a hint of a smirk on his lips or in his voice. “But if you must have my explicit permission, then consider it given.”

“Thank you, your grace,” Stiles said smoothly, flattening his pants with is palms. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The tendons of the King’s throat clenched as his hands fisted. “Must you always be so stubborn?”

“No, not really.” Stiles shrugged and looked away loftily. “Just when I’ve a mind to be.”

“Well, if you’ve only come to insult me,” the King picked up his documents with stiff movements, “then you may as well see yourself out.”

“Not calling you your given name is now considered an insult?” Stiles asked with a raised brow. “Fine, if that’s your requirement for polite company, I will oblige.” He cleared his throat, turned in his seat to better face the King, and clearly and carefully said, “Derek, you are a royal pain in my ass.”

The King’s eyes widened, his mouth slack. For a moment Stiles feared for his very life, thinking that his father had been right all along and that his smart mouth would be his undoing. And then… and then King Derek began to laugh. It was somewhat manic, the man’s cool facade melting like snow against spring, his tense shoulders slacking and rolling back as he barked out laughter. He placed a hand to his eyes in bid to control himself, but still tiny tremors escaped him as he calmed himself down.

Stiles, suffice to say, was somewhat dumbstruck. All the reactions he was expecting, from snark to dismissal to maybe even a punch, went completely out of the window as he watched the way the King laughed, his face crinkling as he smiled. He looked so completely different than the cold facade he usually presented the world. And more than that…

“Do you have bunny teeth?” Stiles asked as he leaned forward in shock.

That statement sent the King straight back to a scowl. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“No. No, you do, you definitely do.”

“I think you’re mistaken, Master Stilinski.”

“Stiles.”

The King blinked hard, his eyes crinkling in confusion.

“If I’m going to call you Derek, you might as well call me what everyone else does. Which is Stiles, by the way. Just ignore the monstrosity on my official documents, okay? Not even my father can pronounce that.”

This time Derek’s smile was softer but no less real, and it made Stiles’ heart thrum in his chest. “Okay. Stiles.”

Somehow the words felt like a truce. At least for now.

+++

Stiles spent as much time as he could with Derek over the next couple of days. Naturally the King was busy, what with ruling a kingdom and working out the details for his own bonding ceremony, but Stiles still tried to steal as many moments as he could. Breakfast was always a good, settled time for some light conversation.

“So, if you’re not into balls or socializing or anything fun,” Stiles continued as he ladled oatmeal into his bowl, “what are you into?”

“Like I said, hunting,” Derek answered between bites of egg. “When I have time, of course. I do have a kingdom to run.”

“Then why not organize hunting parties?” Stiles took a thoughtful sip of his juice, licking his lips after. He didn’t miss the way that Derek tracked his tongue as he did so, but ignored that to continue, “That would be a good way to foster a connection with your nobles, you know. Hunting parties are very popular right now.”

“Hunting is time for me to get away from the court, to think,” Derek grumbled as he coated his food with salt. Stiles had a sneaking suspicion the chefs didn’t even bother flavoring the meals anymore because of how much salt Derek ended up using every meal. “I need to be by myself.”

Stiles pointed his fork, not caring that his etiquette master would have an aneurysm at the very notion. “Yes, but you can do both. I’m sure no one would say time spent hunting with your nobles would be time ill spent. And maybe you wouldn’t get so annoyed doing something you actually enjoy.”

There was a thoughtful silence from Derek before he said, “I’ll consider it,” and then bit into his sausage.

Stiles sighed and changed the topic. He would take the victories he could get.

There was some conversation that Stiles always avoided, and that tended towards the past. He didn’t mention his own childhood, and thus never gave Derek a reason to speak of his own. Politics were certainly out as well, for Stiles had yet to grasp Derek’s position on most things, and knew that any disagreement they had would turn into a full blown argument. No, best to leave such heavy topic to after bonding, when Stiles had at least some leverage. That left only a few things to speak of, but if Stiles was good at anything it was talking.

“So then the dragon started to burn the village down, and demanding they give him an omega virgin as a sacrifice,” Stiles was explaining as he leaned into the library chair, Derek seated beside him. “And they all decide on this one omega, and the alpha who loves her switches places. And the dragon doesn’t notice he has the wrong sacrifice until they’re alone in its lair, and she grabs a sword from a treasure chest and kills the beast.”

“And why are you displeased with it?” Derek asked as he sorted through the ledger in his lap. Something about trade routes and price inflation. “Other than it being completely childish, of course.”

Stiles glared. “It’s not childish, it’s an epic. It’s going to be a little over the top. But no, that’s not why I’m mad at it. I’m mad because they didn’t let the omega save herself. Not, it’s not until a strong, hulking alpha takes her place that the dragon is slain. Which is to say nothing of the fact that the dragon is automatically the monster here. Maybe it didn’t want to eat the omega. Maybe it just wanted company.”

“I thought it tried to burn down the village?” Derek asked as he wrote notes in the margins.

“ _Tried_ being the imperative word here, Derek. I didn’t read about any deaths. Maybe it just wanted to scare them a little.” Stiles slumped in his seat with a huff. “Besides, there are thousands of stories with evil dragons. Is it so much to ask for one where they’re good? Or misunderstood? Or where there are bad dragons and good dragons?”

Derek closed his book with a thoughtful look towards the fireplace. “Actually, I do have some books from the East, if you’re interested in stories like that.”

“They have dragons in the East?” Stiles straightened up in excitement at the thought.

Derek nodded. “They describe dragons as wise and kind. If you’re interested, of course.”

“Of course! I never thought about looking into other culture’s literature. Though finding translated copies are very difficult, to say the least,” Stiles continued to rave, as Derek looked on with amusement.

Not every moment was peaceful, of course. They still squabbled often, usually the point of one or both of them leaving the room. Their first private conversation was but a shining example of the stubborn arguments which were to come.

“It’s a dress!” Stiles exclaimed in horror as he looked at the gown he was to be bonded in.

“It’s traditional,” Derek retorted, already wearing the tight frown he always developed when Stiles decided to, you know, voice his own freaking opinion. “Generations of royal omegas have worn it.”

Stiles couldn’t hold back his huff. He knew that male omegas often straddled the line of masculine and feminine, sometimes wearing traditionally feminine clothing. And that was fine, Stiles saw nothing wrong with a person dressing how they want. Hell, even alphas for all their social posturing could do it and he wouldn’t see anything wrong with that. But he didn’t wear dresses, and he never had the urge to. He liked his pants.

“Perhaps an arrangement can be made, your highness?” asked Mistress Danielle as she clasped her hands together. Her conversations with Stiles had slowly taught her when to push and when to give, and she now had her compromise face on, eying the other servants gathered wearily.

“I don’t see a reason for that,” Derek growled out. “If it’s good enough for my ancestors, it should be good enough for him.”

“Oh, is that so?” Stiles asked, Mistress Danielle grimacing at his lofty tone. “Well, I suppose a commoner like myself wouldn’t know of such things, wouldn’t I? No, just an ignorant peasant here, completely unaware of what is proper and traditional.”

Derek sighed. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh, no, no, you’re right.” Stiles tapped his lips thoughtfully. “You know, I actually have been reading up on bonding ceremonies. All those _traditions_ you keep talking about, and it’s actually pretty fascinating the things you come upon. Did you know they used to do the entire ceremony naked?”

Derek and Mistress Danielle exchanged frantic glances.

“And you know, if you wanted to be traditional,” Stiles continued, his voice still thoughtful and controlled, “maybe we should just go full out. Commune with our ancestors, get in touch with our inner wolves, that whole spiel.”

“Stiles, be reasonable here,” Derek hissed, clasping the omega’s arm. “You’re not doing the ceremony naked.”

Stiles jerked away from Derek’s grip, his eyes cool. “Well, you have a choice here then. You can let me wear a suit, or I can walk down the aisle naked. After all, that’s about as traditional as it gets. So, it’s really up to you, your grace.”

Derek was too busy clenching his jaw to respond.

“If I may make a proposition, your highness?” asked Lydia, stepping forward with a curtsy. She was here as what she liked to call ‘moral support’ but was actually more just keeping tabs on Stiles and making sure he didn’t do or say something stupid. Which, well, wasn’t working too hot so far. 

“Fine,” Derek answered, his face slowly shifting into neutrality once more. “What do you have in mind, Lady Lydia?”

Lydia’s smile was as false as her sense of guilt. “Perhaps some modifications can be made to a suit? Something in between the two options. I’ve a few ideas in mind…”

“Speak to Mistress Danielle,” Derek said with a wave of his hand. “Since my approval no longer matters in this ceremony, I’ll leave the final decision up to her.”

Mistress Danielle curtsied, though her eyes looked conflicted as she glanced towards Stiles. “Yes, your grace. I’ll see to it at once.”

Stiles let out a startled cry as Derek grabbed his wrist, the King announcing, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must have a word with my intended. A good day to you all.” 

Murmurs, bows, and curtsies surrounded them as Derek pulled Stiles out of the room.

“Derek!” Stiles hissed, trying to free his hand. To no avail, of course, because of course Derek would be ridiculously strong. “Stop it, I can walk on my own!”

It wasn’t until they entered Derek’s study that Stiles was finally released, glaring as he rubbed his sore wrist. There was no reason for the King to be a brute about it. Stiles would have left on his own free will- or, well, perhaps he would have made a bit of a fuss, but eventually he would have left. Probably.

“I don’t see why,” Stiles said sharply, “you have to be such an ass in front of my friends-” 

Few things could shock Stiles into silence. Near death experiences, heart crushing news, perhaps a serious injury. He had never thought, in all his years, of being pushed against the wall and kissed into silence.

He gave a shocked mumble as Derek pressed their lips together, his wrists caught in the King’s hands and pinned against the wall. Derek’s lips were hard and unyielding, his stubble pressing against Stiles’ skin as he leaned forward. Despite what many would think, it was not Stiles’ first kiss. It was, however, the first one that made him feel like his heart was about to explode out of his chest.

Omegas weren’t the only ones with pheromones. For all the alpha bitching about how omegas used their scent to their advantage, they too had a scent that could drive others wild. A musk that was filled with sweat and arousal, the promise of sex edged in the air. It had never been this strong though. Perhaps Stiles had gotten a whiff here or there, when they had been seated close next to each other, or after Derek had come back from a hunt, his clothes damp with sweat. Never like this though, the smell sharp and earthy, lighting a small fire in Stiles’ belly as he was overwhelmed by it.

Derek pulled away with a scowl, though he remained close. “Why didn’t you just wait? Why, _why_ do you feel the need to disobey me in public, in front of everyone?”

Stiles blinked the surprise from his eyes, matching Derek’s scowl for one of his own. “Oh, sorry I’m not the dismissive little omega for your almighty alphaness, Derek. Next time you can just gag me when I have an opinion.”

“I’d like to give you something to gag on,” Derek muttered before surging forward once more, capturing Stiles’ lips in an open mouth kiss, the omega’s fingers curling as he tried to suppress a moan. Derek’s tongue was hot and needy, rubbing against Stiles’ almost savagely. His hands began to press against Stiles’ slender hips, digging in deep as if to ground himself within the omega’s skin.

And in turn the Stiles’ wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck, clinging on as the alpha slotted a leg between his thighs. Oh, but how easy it was to grind against that offered leg, like some sort of animal in heat. Stiles bit Derek’s lips, shocking the man into flinching back just so he could quip, “If this is the way you’re going to attempt to win arguments, it won’t deter me from causing them.”

Derek chuckled dryly. “Soon there won’t be any need for arguments at all.” And just like that the tension eased from the King’s shoulders, the corners of his eyes softening.

Stiles felt the urge to ask if this was really about the argument. He had heard that alphas used to bond within moments of meeting an omega, especially when a connection was felt. Perhaps Derek was getting a little stir crazy. There was a reason why alpha/omega engagements were generally short.

But, knowing that Derek was slow to trust and even slower to reveal himself, Stiles simply rested his forehead against his betrothed’s and asked, “Are you really okay with Lydia’s idea?”

Derek closed his eyes and sighed. “Yes, I am okay with Lady Lydia’s idea. I’m sure she will come up with something proper, if your stories are to be believed.”

A hot flush came upon Stiles’ cheeks. “I don’t tell _that_ many stories about her.” 

“More than you probably realize,” Derek replied, though he sounded amused. “But no more than your other friends, I assure you. I believe that I have quite a clear picture of them all.”

Stiles twiddled with his fingers, still behind Derek’s neck. “I wish you would get to know them better yourself. They all want to get to know you.”

“Hmm.” Derek didn’t make to move, his eyes still closed. His breaths were long and deep, and there was little doubt that he was taking in Stiles’ scent. “After the marriage preparations.”

Satisfied that Derek was being truthful, and not simply putting him off, Stiles decided that it would be a good time to go back to kissing. And Derek, it turned out, wholeheartedly agreed. There seemed be one thing at least that they held common ground on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My LOVELY best friend [Aero](doodleaero.tumblr.com) drew this for me! Oh gosh, they're so awesome!
> 
>  


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Stiles woke up the day of his bonding ceremony covered in sweat._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, I am SO sorry for the SUPER huge hiatus! Student teaching + finals + going to graduation ceremonies madness just kicked my ass the last couple of months. But now summer is here! I'm going on vacation for a week starting tomorrow (no computer!) but after that I will be doing my damnedest to give weekly updates until this story is finished. Please enjoy ^^

The truth was that it was not only Derek who was going stir crazy. Stiles was, after all, but a virgin. He had exchanged plenty of kisses with companions, that was true, but he had done little else. Every time Derek pressed him against the wall and gripped his body tight, scented him so thoroughly that Stiles was bathed in the King’s scent. Every time there was a flash of heat that sparked along the young omega’s skin that wasn’t to be smothered by mere kisses alone. And with his cool smirks and teasing hands, Derek knew this all too well.

Finally, a mere three days before the ceremony, Stiles put his foot down and forbade any physical contact. For all his pouting and posturing, Derek stuck to Stiles’ wishes. There was no doubt they both felt it though, the urge to cement their bond.

“I’m lucky if I don’t go into heat before the ceremony,” Stiles muttered as Heather clasped his vest closed.

“You’ll place a jinx on yourself with those sorts of words,” Heather warned him sternly.

Stiles scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Oh, come now. What’s the chances of that happening? An omega having their first heat so soon after showing?”

“Well perhaps if you weren’t stroking the flames already,” Heather said, voice and smile mischievous and soft. She had become far more comfortable around him in the past few weeks.

Stiles scoffed. “Wives’ tales. I assure you, our activities have been-”

“Have been something lowly servants like me should not and do not wish to hear about,” Heather cut the young lord off, smoothing his vest with a none-too-gentle yank. “And I hear about omegas going into their heats straight after marriage all the time. You and his Majesty are certainly acting like a married couple, the gossip I hear,” she admonished as she clasped his wrist cuffs.

“If you’re right I’ll buy you a diamond necklace.” Stiles declared boldly.

Heather fixed his collar with an assessing look. “I don’t want a necklace when you prove me right.”

“Well what do you want, if not a fine necklace?” Stiles asked with a smirk. “A gown? An estate? A title? How big are we talking here?”

Heather paused for a moment looking down at her shoes. “Well… if I could have anything, I suppose…” She looked up, and though her eyes were hesitant her mouth was firm. “It would be a fair job, a good job. Not just fixing clothes and cleaning rooms. An aid or a scribe to someone of importance. Something that held respect.”

Stiles smiled easy as he clasped Heather’s shoulders. “Consider that done, winning the bet or not. And, as an added bonus, if I do go into heat before the wedding I’ll buy you something suitable for your new position. Sound fair?”

A tension along Heather’s shoulders seemed to melt beneath Stiles’ hands, and her answering smile was as genuine as her words had always been. “Deal.”

Stiles almost wished she would win, just so he could get away with buying her something nice. Of course, not really. Going through the marriage in heat? He couldn’t even imagine the hell that would be.

+++

Stiles woke up the day of his bonding ceremony covered in sweat.

Oh no. Oh no. “Oh no no no.” he frantically muttered to himself as he flung back the sheets. This couldn’t be happening. This was definitely not happening. Of all things happening, this was not one of them. He stared down at his sweaty torso, all the way to his rock hard cock. Oh _shit_.

“Why did I say it!” he exclaimed as he wobbled to the water basin, his legs feeling as weak as a newborn lamb’s. “Why did I even tempt the Goddess?” he continued to mutter as he washed his face, looking at the mirror before him. He was going to be bonded today, there was absolutely no stopping that. He certainly could not fuck Derek before a formal bonding ceremony, in their social circle that was simply unheard of.

He turned towards the door as he heard it open, and at the sight of his reddened face Heather gave a surprised gasp, nearly tilting the tray containing his breakfast over in her surprise before asking, “You’re in heat, aren’t you?”

“What was your first clue?” he sneered, dabbing his heated brow. “And I’m blaming you for this, just so you know. You’re the one who said this would happen!”

Heather set the tray down with a clang. “I wasn’t the one necking you in the palace halls! Oh, if only you two hadn’t spent so much time together.” She went over to Stiles and began to fuss over him, combing back his sweaty hair as she clicked her tongue. “I don’t know if a bath will be much help, but perhaps right before the ceremony? I’ll make sure to add some perfumes to cover the scent.” She crinkled her nose. “Or perhaps dump a bucket in, just to be sure. By the kingdom, you smell ripe, Stiles.”

“Thanks for the compliment,” he muttered as he sank down on the bed, frantically rubbing his hair. His mind felt groggy and his muscles felt tight, as if they were trying to burst from his skin. Not even the embarrassment of Heather seeing him like this had soften his erection, and he felt the pressing need for release as each minute ticked by. He knew this wasn’t the worst of it, no, this was just the beginning. As soon as his alpha’s scent hit him the simmering heat in his stomach would alight to a burning need, stoked higher and higher until all Stiles could do was demand to be mated.

Oh god, did he ever hate being an omega right now.

“When’s the ceremony?” he croaked, not even looking up as he curled downwards.

“This evening, under the full moon.” Heather bit her lip. “You won’t last until then, I just know it. I’ll have to go inform the king.”

Stiles barely compressed a laugh at that, looking up with a raised brow. “Oh, and spoil all of his pomp and ceremony? Go ahead and tell him, I eagerly await your reply.”

Stiles was sent a letter within the hour in Derek’s careful script.

_Ceremony moved to early afternoon. Only close attendants will wait on you. Do not leave your room until the ceremony for any reason. Best I can do. - D.H._

Given Derek, it was practically a love letter.

So it was only within a few hours that Stiles was bathed in such perfumed waters he felt like a flower, powdered within an inch of his life to help stall the sweating, and dressed in his wedding outfit. Lydia had designed it, a creamy white jacket and breeches with gold lining. The back of the jacket tail was almost skirt like, stiffened by an under corset, the metal lining hidden with frills. The cut emphasized his slender waist and chest, due more to his age hopefully than his omega status. It was well known that the thought of a slender and slight omega was often not the truth, and that just like alphas and betas there were many body types represented. Still, omegas were thought to be less dominant and more submissive, and thus often dressed in such styles.

By the time the last clasp had been clasped and the last tie had been tied, Stiles was having a hard time standing up. The only relief to be found was the fact that his stiff undergarments would thankfully hide his erection, though he had a good grasp on keeping it down so far. Masturbating in the water room that morning had helped a little, though he was concentrating very hard on every disgusting thought he could think of to keep it at bay.

The sight of the Sheriff at his doorway was a small relief, and Stiles smiled weakly at his father, who smiled nervously back and offered an arm. Stiles took it gratefully, leaning heavily on the older man as they began to walk down the hall. They slowly made their way to the ceremony chamber.

As the doors opened they were met with a hall filled to the brim with aristocrats and the wealthy. It seemed as if all of Beacon Hills was there to see him bond and there, standing at the altar, was King Hale. A navy-blue suit befitting a king, his long black cape hanging from his shoulders, his crown shining atop his black locks. His eyes, green and gold, focused intensely on Stiles, only Stiles, his thick brows furrowed at the sight.

Stiles smiled in return, though his breaths were shaky as he made his way down the aisle. He knew that as soon as he smelled Derek he would begin to grow into a frenzy and there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop it. Absolutely no way he could speed up the ceremony. He almost wanted to cry at the unfairness of it all. He was going to have to stand by the one person who could make this aching feeling in his chest even worse, and then be forced to listen to the Moon Goddess’ praises for close to an hour.

But, strangely, he wasn’t met by the powerful alpha pheromones he had been expecting as he reached the end of the aisle. As Stiles stepped away from his father and took hold of Derek’s arm, all he could smell was a bitter herb. If anything it helped dull the ache, a relaxing scent that he breathed in with relief. When he opened his eyes he saw Derek looking down at him, his expression gentle as he took Stiles’ gloved hand up to his mouth, giving it a reassuring kiss.

“Today we are here to bond His Royal Highness Derek Hale of Beacon Hills to Lord Stiles of the Stilinski household!” The High Priestess announced, her arms raised high as her white robes rustled. It was the first time Stiles even noticed her, despite her place behind the sacred altar. She was just as beautiful as Scott had exclaimed her to be, her dark eyes full of mystery from beneath her white cloak. There was rumor she was related to Doctor Deaton, and there was a family resemblance between them.

This was it. She was going to start to ramble on and on, say every prayer in the book, call upon every deity to bless this marriage. Stiles gulped at the very thought, steeling himself in place.

She turned to Derek. “Do you swear to protect your Mate? That his troubles are your greatest concerns, that his sorrows are your woes, that his happiness is your ultimate glory?”

Stiles blinked. No, that wasn’t right. That was the end of the ceremony. The very, very end. The last minute of it. This was all wrong…

“I swear before the Goddess, before my people, and before my kingdom,” Derek announced, his voice booming across the hall.

She nodded and turned to Stiles. “And what of you, Lord Stiles? Do you swear to protect your Mate? That his troubles are your greatest concerns, that his sorrows are your woes, that his happiness is your ultimate glory?”

Stiles nodded, relief flooding through him. They were shortening the ceremony for him. Derek had asked her to. 

The practiced words came easily now, rushing out of him in sweet relief. “I swear before the Goddess, before the people which will now be my people, and before the kingdom which will now be my kingdom.”

She raised her arms to the sky, despite the heavy sunlight pouring through the stained glass window, alighting the hall in rich blues and silvers. “The Goddess may hide her face from the day, but not her presence. She sees all and hears all, and she has witnessed this bonding.” Her arms slowly lowered, and her smile was crooked and private, as if she knew a secret. “You are now bonded before the Goddess, and may now leave with her blessing.”

Stiles barely had time to let it sink in, that he was now mated to the King of Beacon Hills, before he was swept off his feet and whisked out of the room by the very man himself.

+++

They went straight to Derek’s chambers, which were now Stiles’ chambers too he supposed. The curtains had been closed to the noon day sun and dozens of candles had been lit in preparation. The early summer was blessedly cool, but even so Stiles felt himself sweating beneath his clothes. His skin felt closed in and tight, as if fit to burst.

Sensing his discomfort, Derek deposited his new mate onto the bed and began to unbutton Stiles’ jacket. Stiles was having a hard time concentrating, but the sight of his alpha’s eyes seem to clear his head. They were bright red, and it was the first time Stiles had seen Derek’s control slip enough for his eyes to glow. Still, the King’s hands were steady as he undid the clasps.

Stiles shivered as Derek began to unlace his underthings, calloused fingers rubbing against his overheated skin through the soft silks. He had never thought a king’s hand would be calloused, but Derek often went riding, hunting, and training in the yard. Even these shallow touches felt rough and wonderful, and Stiles wanted nothing more than to feel them against his bare skin. Derek granted him that wish soon enough, quickly stripping him down to nothing and laying him against the soft covers.

Stiles whined and pushed at Derek’s jacket. “I want your clothes off too,” he rasped, licking his lips.

Derek’s gaze followed Stiles’ tongue as he began to shed his own clothes as well, first undoing the clasp of his cloak, throwing each piece to the side of the bed to land atop Stiles’ own heap. His chest was sculpted and pale, the muscles prominent and solid, his arms corded with muscle. A scent of musk hit Stiles suddenly, so sharp that it made him moan and withe beneath Derek, and it seemed all he could do to mutter, “Your smell…”

Derek’s eyes flashed as he began to unclasp his belt, his movements hurried. “Deaton put an herb on my clothes to mask it,” he explained, his eyes never leaving Stiles’. “He was able to come just before I had to make my way to the ceremony.”

Stiles breathed in the scent of his mate, and it clouded his head like the headiest of wines. He was fully hard now, his cock red and leaking. He knew it would not take much to get him off, and he knew that it would be the first of many orgasms. Omegas in heat had a refractory period that would take several betas to satisfy if an alpha was not there to claim them.

By the time Stiles came back to his senses, Derek was fully undressed, his gaze heated as he stared down towards his mate. His _mate_. Stiles was Derek’s mate now, his bonded. Stiles belonged to Derek just as Derek belonged to Stiles. He felt as if a thread had latched on to his heart and the other end had been anchored within Derek’s chest, the pull easing as Derek leaned down to place a sweet kiss on his lips.

“Are you okay?” Derek whispered between kisses. “Are you okay with this?”

Stiles nodded frantically, lifting upwards to kiss Derek back. “Yes. Please, yes, I need…” He did not know exactly what he needed, but it was building up inside him, a pressure against his stomach, a heat in his groin, a buzzing in his head. “You. I need you.”

Derek’s hand ventured downward, lightly skimming over Stiles’ sensitive skin. Stiles bit off a moan as Derek’s hand reached his groin, but the man merely ghosted over the hard cock to reach behind Stiles, to finger lightly at his hole. 

Stiles was too wrapped up with how good it felt to be mortified by the fact that, for the first time ever, he was growing wet. He simply clasped Derek’s forearms and bit back a moan.

“You need my cock,” Derek said bluntly, his left hand stroking back Stiles’ sweat laced hair as his right hand’s finger circled Stiles’ hole before slowly penetrating him. “You need me to fill you up, make you full of me. Don’t you?”

Stiles blushed, turning away from Derek’s knowing gaze. He had never bedded another before, and Derek was so confident, so handsome. A literal king was above him, and he had never felt more the naive peasant. 

Derek’s chuckle was lighthearted as he leaned forward to nibble on Stiles’ ear. “My sweet mate,” he murmured, adding another finger, causing Stiles’ to cry out in surprise. “I’ll take care of you.”

And he did. The candles burned low as Derek took his time with Stiles’ body, opening him gently, touching him softly, tasting him with reverence. He would murmur sweet words into Stiles’ ear, mouth, skin, reassuring mutterings laced with innuendo that filled Stiles with pleasurable shame. Often Stiles would find himself moaning, biting his lips to stifle the sounds. But slowly he stopped as Derek encouraged him to cry out louder, to let his sweet voice echo throughout the chamber. His mate promised that the pleasure would be sweeter for both of them if Stiles would let himself be heard, and as he withed on the mattress, panting and moaning and crying with such pleasure, he found that to be nothing but true.

Stiles’ first orgasm came with only a few short strokes of Derek’s hand, and he watched with lidded eyes as Derek licked the cum off his palm as if it was a treat. Stiles’ clumsy hand moved towards Derek’s hard cock, wanting to return the pleasure, but his mate merely grabbed his wrist lightly and shook his head.

When Derek finally entered Stiles it was as they faced each other, Stiles’ arms wrapped around Derek’s neck and Derek’s arms lifting Stiles’ legs at the knee. They kissed each other softly as Derek slowly slid himself into Stiles’ slick heat.

“Perfect,” Derek moaned, his chest heaving. “You’re perfect for me, Stiles. You were made for me to make love to you.”

Stiles nodded. “For you, for you,” he panted, half delirious with finally being filled. His eyes shut as Derek finally bottomed out, their flesh pressed together. “Oh god, Derek, please, please.” He needed something, he had no idea what, but he needed something so desperately he wanted to cry in despair. Derek had to give it to him, no one else, only Derek.

Stiles had never quite imagined his first time like this. Usually it was with a soft woman, her breasts heaving as she cried his name. Or a boy his age, face flushed as they rubbed against each other. He had had no fantasies of being entered, of an older man with dark stubble and glowing red eyes. And yet…he could imagine nothing else now, no one else.

Derek took him, body and soul, slowly and sweetly. Derek worshiped him, with words and kisses, with awe and sincerity. Derek was his. His mate and bonded. His king and lover.

“Derek...I’m going to… I’m going to…”

“Do it for me,” Derek urged, his body tightening as he began to thrust faster, his calloused hand moving to stroke his mate’s cock. “Fuck, Stiles, I need you to cum for _me_.”

And Stiles did, his hips thrusting forward, a blinding white light appearing under his eyelids. His head felt heavy with it, such a rush of blood that he felt he might drown in it. His throat cracked with his final cry, and he clung to Derek desperately, as if he might fly away. He had never truly experienced ecstasy until that moment, and he felt as if he might die from the pleasure.

It wasn’t until he was coming down from the high that he realizes that Derek had stopped moving, that his fingernails were now claws ripping into the mattress on either side of Stiles, his teeth a set of fangs. And Derek’s cock… his cock was firmly lodged within Stiles’, and the base bulged with what could only be his alpha’s knot.

Stiles chuckled as realization hit him, his mind clearer than it had been in hours. From the look of Derek’s cloudy gaze, the opposite was true for him. But Stiles’ had read the books, knew how primal alphas became as the moment of true bonding, the knot which would link them together. 

So Stiles’ simply leaned forward to give Derek’s cheek a kiss and said, “Thank you. I needed that.”

Derek only let out a grunt, but he looked awfully pleased with himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More pictures from [Aero](doodleaero.tumblr.com)! Here we have Derek and Stiles in very similar outfits to what they got married in, as well as a bonus picture of Allison, Scott, and Isaac <3
> 
>    
> 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It started off with a pretty simple dismissal. Well, not simple, it was never simple when Stiles was involved, so shall we say... blunt? It wasn’t from Derek, it had only been two weeks after their bonding and he was still doing the Alpha thing where he treated Stiles like he was made of porcelain... And sometimes telling Stiles he looked like he was made of porcelain, with creamy skin speckled with moles he wanted to kiss a thousand times over, and yeah apparently Derek had a romantic side when he was in heat, who knew? But getting off topic..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I am trash. I am absolute trash. You can find the full explanation of why I haven't updated [here](http://ember-to-ash.tumblr.com/post/108765534794/consort-to-the-king-update-soon-writing) though it's more rant than explanation. Suffice to say, I am now gearing up to finish this fic, which is why I have finally the final chapter number on this thing. Please enjoy!

It started off with a pretty simple dismissal. Well, not simple, it was never simple when Stiles was involved, so shall we say... blunt? It wasn’t from Derek, it had only been two weeks after their bonding and he was still doing the Alpha thing where he treated Stiles like he was made of porcelain... And sometimes telling Stiles he _looked_ like he was made of porcelain, with creamy skin speckled with moles he wanted to kiss a thousand times over, and yeah apparently Derek had a romantic side when he was in heat, who knew? But getting off topic...

It _was_ Derek fidgeting at the head of the table as Duke So-and-So delicately and plainly informed Stiles that he was _not_ welcomed to their meeting. Not that Derek King-of-the-Fucking-Castle Hale said anything to refute this claim. Still, it was like a slap in the face, and for once in his life Stiles couldn’t argue his way out of it.

Yes, Lady This-or-That realized, Stiles _was_ the consort of the king.

Of course, Baroness Something-or-Other agreed, they were having a discussion about the welfare of Stiles’ people, the ones he was meant to protect and look after.

However, Duke So-and-So concluded, it would be best if Stiles would listen to and advise the King in private, as was traditional. No one was questioning the wisdom of the kingdom’s consort, but that was alone for the King to hear, not the King’s advisors.

“It’s downright insulting, that’s what it is!” Stiles ranted between bites of cookies. “It’s as if I’m just some willful child who Derek has to deal with, not a trusted confidant! Fuck, I just- I hate patronizing, condescending, fucking _nobles_!”

Heather’s mouth quirked as she sipped her tea, her once red and calloused hands covered in dainty gloves. “ _You_ are a noble now, Stiles. Sometimes I feel you forget that.”

“And you’re a Mistress,” Stiles snorted, swallowing his mouthful of food, “but that won’t get rid of who you were so easily.”

“Technically I was always a Mistress, my lord,” Heather pointed out, purposefully putting on titles to annoy Stiles further. “Just because Mistress Danielle makes sure people call me proper now doesn’t change that my status hasn’t moved up, just my job credentials.”

“Well at least Mistress Danielle is letting you have a voice!” Stiles slumped back into his seat, not giving a damn if his etiquette teacher would faint at the sight. “Actually… I may be complaining, but I’m happy you two are getting along,” he conceded.

Heather’s smile lit up her face. “We’re quickly becoming the best of friends! Oh, Stiles,” she put her hand over his, “I cannot thank you enough for all you’ve done for me.”

“Of course,” Stiles replied with a small grin, “a bet’s a bet after all.”

Heather was good company, sure, but Stiles could not help but feel a twinge of want for his other friends. It had been nearly a month since the bonding ceremony, but because of the unusual circumstances surrounding said event Stiles hadn’t really been able to spend time with them. And ever since… it had been strange. Everytime Stiles mentioned visiting his friends, Derek had changed the subject. Everytime Stiles mentioned leaving the castle, actually, Derek had found a way to distract him. Whether it was with words or… other things.

Like the morning after their bonding ceremony. It had been a haze of sex that day and night, the only relief when Derek had collected their dinner from his solace before gathering Stiles onto his lap and feeding his new omega by hand. And hadn’t that been delightful, feeding from the King’s hands as if Stiles was the royal one. But even though Stiles had licked Derek’s fingers lightly, and even though his new alpha had soon lost himself and tumbled them both back onto the bed (wine going everywhere mind you), there had been one important bit that they only remembered the day after.

It was while they were bathing the King’s very large and very warm tub. Stiles was once more seated on Derek’s lap, rolling his hips as Derek sucked his neck, when Stiles suddenly had a thought.

“I should host a party or something to make up for cutting the ceremony short,” he decided, suddenly sitting up a little taller, looking back. “Derek, don’t you think that’s a good idea?”

“Hmm?” Derek muttered, looking up from the neck he had been kissing. “Yes, very good, you can set up an appointment with Mistress Danielle,” he said off handedly before going back to his very important work of covering Stiles’ with hickies.

“Yes,” Stiles decided, closing his eyes and sinking back into his mate. “You can even go hunting, since you like that so much. We’ll have it be outdoors. It’s not too cold yet for that at least, if we get it in early enough.”

“Of course,” Derek agreed readily, his hands rubbing up and down Stiles’ torso, light touches that had the omega preening like a cat.

“We should do it at Scott’s place!” Stiles exclaimed, not noticing how the body beneath his went rigid at the statement. “Allison says the forests by their estate has excellent game, since it’s a bit away from the city. And given her pregnancy it would probably be best if she didn’t have to travel.” He wasn’t quite sure how that worked, given that she hadn’t even been showing the last time they saw one another, but he was sure Scott and Isaac would both thank him for the courtesy.

Derek’s hands began to clutch Stiles’ hips tightly. “The castle’s forests have always given me plenty of game,” he grumbled darkly, his thumbs rubbing circles against Stiles’ skin.

Stiles laughed, oblivious. “Come on, it’ll be fun. It’s no good staying cooped up in this castle forever. Go out and see the lands you’re trying to rule!”

Derek was silent for a few beats. “Perhaps… I will think on it.” And before Stiles had a chance to reply, he leaned forward and whispered hotly into his omega’s ear, “Have you realized I haven’t given you the bite yet?”

Stiles shivered at the thought, his pupils dilating. “No, I hadn’t…” In truth, his mind wasn’t quite clear at the moment. And he was never one to stand on ceremony.

“I have,” Derek continued, his lips nuzzling against the delicate shell of Stiles’ ear. “It’s all I could think about last night, after you fell asleep. How good it will feel to sink my teeth into you. Mark you, claim you, finally make you mine.”

A groan flew from Stiles lips. He leaned back and turned his head, his nose nuzzling against Derek’s jawbone. “Why didn’t you?” he whispered.

Derek chuckled darkly and grasped Stiles chin, their eyes connecting. “When I take you I want you fully awake, screaming for it, begging for it.”

“I’m awake now,” Stiles answered with a smirk, grinding down lightly on Derek’s throbbing erection.

They never did get back to the original conversation.

More instances kept popping up. First it was how Derek avoided eye contact whenever Stiles talked about them visiting his friends. Then it was how Stiles was told by the valet that the coach was being repaired when he tried to go into the city. When Stiles had snorted and asked, “What, all of them?” the valet had shifted her eyes and said that the whole lot of them was being inspected or already in use.

The excuses just became more blatant every time he tried to leave the castle, until he finally decided to take matters into his own hands. Stiles Hale may be consort to the king, but that did not mean that Stiles Stilinski had ever balked at the idea of twisting the rules into his own fashion.

+++

“We’re so going to get caught,” Scott whined, pulling his hood closer to his face as the coach bounced beneath him. “We’re going to die. Only _you’re_ not going to die because the King has sex with you, but _I’m_ going to die, and then who will raise my child?”

Stiles slapped a friendly hand on his friend’s shoulder, leaning into the cushions. “Relax! I told them I would be discussing party details with Heather for hours, by the time they notice we’re gone we’ll already have slipped out!”

“Not if you two keep chatting so loudly!” Heather scolded, peering out of the coach’s window. “If I get caught then it’ll be Mistress Danielle who answers to it, have no mistake about that.”

“Relax.” Stiles repeated as he waved a flippant hand. “I told you if we get caught that I’ll take the full blame. Who’s going to blame you for following the direct order of your liege?”

She didn’t say anything, but her tight lips and clenched hands bespoke her thoughts. Yes, Stiles did know that no one could outright blame Heather in following his orders. But there was a lot to be desired for not following her King’s indirection command, which Stiles had quickly realized was to keep his person inside the castle walls at all times. For however long, well, that remained to be seen. Stiles wasn’t too keen on finding out.

Scott rubbed his eyes. “So let me get this straight. The plan is, _if_ we get caught,” and the way he said the phrase bespoke to how greatly he thought that was possible, “that you invited me over so that we could discuss having a party held on my estates. After hearing the idea Heather told you that it would be impossible to plan properly without seeing the grounds. Then _you_ ,” and with that word he gave Stiles a hard look, “decided that you had absolutely nothing better to do and that we should all make a quick visit tonight.”

“Exactly! All the blame is put on my royal personage.” Stiles thumped his chest. “Though of course… I was never directly told I wasn’t allowed to leave. So there’s no way I can be blamed, is there?” He didn’t even try to keep the bite out of his voice.

“Look,” Scott began, his eyes softening and his hand resting on Stiles’ shoulder, “I don’t know why the King is doing this, but maybe there’s a good reason. Have you tried talking to him about it?”

And Stiles just… sighed. “Yeah Scott, I have. I don’t know, have you ever had Allison avoid conversations by giving you blow jobs?”

Scott’s face fell, his hand recoiling like Stiles’ shoulder had just produced a snake. “You know what, maybe this would be a better conversation to have with my significant others.”

Heather just laughed.

+++

It turned out that Isaac and Allison didn’t have much better advice than Scott did, though they were far more willing to listen to Stiles’ griping.

“I mate with someone so far outside my social class that I shouldn’t even have been noticed, and they turn out to be a psycho who thinks I can be controlled through sex!”

“And remind us again,” Allison asked with a small grin, “why it took you so many weeks to make your daring escape?”

“Well I never claimed I couldn’t be _deterred_ with sex,” Stiles amended with a wave of his hand. “I’m only human, after all.”

Allison shook her head and went to take his hand. “Now, now, before you’re hulking alpha takes you away again, we have something very important to ask you.”

As if on cue, Isaac and Scott went to stand behind her, each placing a hand on her shoulder. She looked back at them both with adoration before carefully touching the top of her now growing stomach.

“Don’t tell me… you’re pregnant?” Stiles asked with a smirk, though his pulse quickened. “Because that’s a bit of stale news at this point.”

“Oh stop with the jokes, this is a serious moment,” she admonished lightly. “Stiles, you’ve been Scott’s closest friend for the entirety of his life, even before he gained his title. You always accepted Isaac, even before you knew you were an omega as well. And I consider you a brother-in-law in all but name now, and you’ve done your part to earn that title.” She laughed then, her eyes crinkling in delight. “So I can think of no man better to be the godfather of my first child.”

Stiles’ eyes widened. “I… but… not Isaac?” He had only assumed.

“Isaac will be the child’s father,” Scott explained, “even if we’re pretty certain that’s not biologically true. He’s as much Allison’s mate as he is mine. We’re not going to let our children think of any of us as outsiders as we raise them.”

Stiles nodded, still dumb stricken. Of course this made sense, and he knew that he could easily take up the title of Uncle Stiles. He now had the means to care for the child, should the unthinkable happen. He was mated and wealthy and more than willing to take care of his… his godchild.

Stiles laughed, his whole body shaking with pleasure, for the first time in a long time. He hadn’t felt this light, this happy, in months. Perhaps not since Scott and Allison had told them of their engagement. He was going to be a godfather! He had no choice but to get up and give his friend a hug and several thumps on the back, quickly moving to Isaac for the same treatment before leaning down and hugging Allison lightly, mindful of her stomach. Everyone was smiling now, and Stiles wondered how Scott had been able to keep that little secret for the entire ride to his estate.

“I can only assume that Lydia will be my counterpart?” he mused, absolutely delighted when Allison nodded. “I suppose I’ll have heavy competition for favorite godparent then.” Lydia would absolutely spoil the child rotten.

After much excited conversation and a few rounds of wine from Scott’s cellars (juice for the pregnant woman, of course), Stiles eventually found himself talking alone with Isaac as Scott helped Allison to bed.

“Did Scott… when you first bonded, was he protective?” Stiles asked, his face red and his fingertips tingly as he took another sip of wine.

Isaac looked thoughtfully into his own cup. “A little, yes. It’s all very chemical at first. I was very lucky to have gotten to know him as long as I did before we were bonded.”

“But… well, you’ve heard the story.” Stiles worried his bottom lip. “Was he as bad as Derek is with me? That first couple of weeks?”

Isaac shook his head. “I’m sorry, but no. He didn’t like to leave my side, that’s true. Sometimes he became grouchy if other people touched me, other than Allison of course... But then again, everytime he would growl or snap, Allison was there to calm him down. I was a bit useless, you see. I wasn’t use to seeing Scott as anything but my lord and master, so I a hard time admonishing him.” He took a long sip of wine and leaned back in his chair, watching the flickering flames. “I still do, truth be told.”

Not for the first time did Stiles wonder what his own life would be like if he had entered into an already mated pair like many omegas before him. He had at first been relieved that hadn’t been the case, given that he had no idea how he was suppose to find room between two people already in love. It had felt like that with Scott and Allison, and he was only their friend not their lover. But now that he saw how Scott looked at both Allison and Isaac with the same shine of love, how Allison was just as likely to flirt with Isaac now as she was with Scott, and how together they had obviously smothered Isaac with such love and affection that the omega was nearly brimming with it…

Maybe Derek would have done well to have that balance. An alpha mate to lead, a beta mate to balance, an omega mate to spoil. Wasn’t that the saying? How was Stiles suppose to both balance Derek and be spoiled by him. And as the weeks passed it became more and more obvious that that was entirely Derek’s intentions. Spoil him like milk too precious to drink, curdling in the stony depths of the King’s castle. Stiles wanted for nothing, not books nor fine foods nor splendid gifts. Not even company should he send an invitation to his friends. But it felt that Derek’s insistence of him not leaving… it didn’t feel like simple possession. It felt like a deep rooted fear.

“Well, at least your alpha will listen to it when you do decide to speak out,” Stiles assured his fellow omega. “Scott’s a good person.”

“You make it sound as if you don’t think the King is,” Isaac said, his words cradling half a question as his eyes once more met Stiles.

It took a long gulp of wine for Stiles to respond with, “Maybe. Underneath it all. I’ll be damned if I can find it though.”

“Well, you can always come here if need be,” Isaac assured him. “Scott and Allison would tell you the same if they weren’t fooling around upstairs.”

“Not an image I needed to think upon,” Stiles declared with a wince, slamming his hand on the table and drinking the last of his wine. “Now excuse me, I must go find Heather so she can drive me back to all ball and chain.”

“That won’t be necessary,” said a cold voice behind him.

Stiles went stiff as a board, not daring to turn around. But the look of horror in Isaac’s eyes was enough to confirm the owner of that voice. Never, in all the various scenarios that he had played out in his mind, had he thought that the King himself would come to collect him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Stiles didn’t start to scowl, but only because he had been scowling the minute that Derek had walked into the room. He was sitting in bed because there was absolutely no point in getting out of it when there was nowhere to go. Not even anywhere in the castle now._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue soon to follow!

The carriage rattled as it drove through the forest, night stretching before it boundless and dark as the moon was but a sliver in the sky. It was sad that Stiles couldn’t appreciate the view as he had earlier that afternoon, eyes trailing the endless trees as he had talked lightly with his friends. Now it was all he could do to stare at his feet. The atmosphere was as different as night and day, a heaviness in the air pressing on his shoulders and causing him to slump. Not for the first time he cursed the fact that Derek had made Heather ride back to the castle alone in Mistress Danielle’s carriage.

“I don’t think I need to tell you what you did wrong,” Derek began quietly, his voice so terribly cold. “But I would like to have your word that you will not do it again.”

At this Stiles _did_ look up, his eyes heated and his lips tightly pressed. “No Derek, you’re wrong about that first part. I _don’t_ know what I did wrong. Care to enlighten me?”

“This is no time to be childish, Stiles!” Derek burst out, teeth clenched, eyes flashing red. “You’re my mate now! Anyone could have found out you were leaving. Anyone could have come and hurt you. All to hurt me, to wound me in some way.”

“ _You_ leave the castle! Give me guards, give me protection, but don’t give me no choice in the matter!” Stiles crossed his arms and looked to the side, not able to look Derek in the eyes anymore. “Don’t trick me like a _child_ because you don’t think I can handle the truth.”

With a sigh Derek rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Stiles, be reasonable-”

“No, you be reasonable!” Stiles arms flicked as he leaned forward, resisting the urge to throttle his mate’s neck. “Tell me that’s the reason then. Tell me that the only reason you didn’t let me leave was to protect me. Those exact words, because you can’t skate around the truth here Derek. I want to hear your heart beat true.”

Derek glared silently at that, and for a few moments Stiles could hear nothing but his own heavy breathing. Finally the omega pulled back, his head pressed against his own seat cushion as if to be as far away from Derek as possible in the cramped carriage. “I won’t be locked away like some sort of kept pet. I will have my freedom. If you think you can get away with not talking about it-”

Derek lunged forward, and for one flashing moment Stiles believed that he was going to be attacked. He was sure no one would be terribly shocked at his funeral. Death by aggravating an alpha? It was almost fitting. But instead of tearing out his throat (most likely with his teeth) Derek instead grabbed Stiles’ cravat and pulled him in for a punishing kiss.

As always, Stiles was pulled into Derek’s tide at first, that irresistible pull of power and seduction, as helpless as the waves against the moon. But then he pushed back, breaking the kiss with a growl of, “You can’t do this!”

Derek let out a growl of his own, primal and animal as he began to bite down Stiles’ neck, gold buttons popping as he pushed Stiles jacket off his shoulder.

“I can’t- stop, I can’t-,” Stiles mumbled as pheromones flooded his senses, more heady and rich than the wine he had tasted that night. His head felt light and his blood buzzed along his skin. He moaned as Derek licked a hot strip across his mating bite, his dick twitching in response. Derek gave him a warning look before clapping his hand across Stiles’ mouth. Of course, right, the driver was so close...

Derek looked up at him then, his red eyes simmering beneath long black lashes, and Stiles knew it was a lost cause. Every time that this happened, every time that Derek had silenced him with biting kisses and hot touches… Every goddess damned time he would look at Stiles with such helpless despair. A silent plea to accept this, to accept Derek’s love and not ask questions. To not force Derek to say something he just could not say.

Derek travelled down Stiles’ body slowly, this time undoing the buttons of his shirt. He kissed Stiles’ now heated skin and worried both nipples, moving down to lick Stiles’ heaving stomach and mouthing his belly button, before finally reaching his quickly hardening cock. Stiles nearly shouted in pleasure when Derek took it into his mouth, the sensitive skin sending electric currents straight through Stiles’ body.

“Fuck,” he muttered, grabbing ahold of Derek’s thick hair as the King bobbed up and down. The warm, wet heat of Derek’s mouth made his toes curl, broken moans filtering through Derek’s fingers.

Stiles had often heard that makeup sex was the best sex, but he wasn’t quite sure it could hold a candle to the desperate, needy touch of Derek when he was trying to distract. Stiles’ mate had catalogued every inch of his skin, had taken Stiles’ apart piece by piece, the omega brought back together a desperate, needy thing that craved Derek’s touch.

The pulsing heat in Stiles’ groin grew and grew until he couldn't hold back anymore, biting down on Derek’s finger to muffle the shout forced from him as he came into his King’s mouth. He whimpered as Derek licked him clean, his oversensitive cock tingling at the motion. Derek kissed up Stiles’ torso once more, ending with a perfectly chaste kiss on the cheek as he began to button up Stiles’ shirt.

Stiles fell asleep in Derek’s lap, lulled by his mate’s warmth and smell.

+++

“You’ve barely touched your food,” Derek commented as he put another log into the fire, arranging the kindle to help it catch. “The servants say that you’re plates are far more full than usual when they come to collect it.”

Stiles didn’t start to scowl, but only because he had been scowling the minute that Derek had walked into the room. He was sitting in bed because there was absolutely no point in getting out of it when there was nowhere to go. Not even anywhere _in_ the castle now.

“This room smells like death,” Stiles muttered, glaring out the slitted window. He had heard that Laura had put Peter in this very tower after the fire, comatose for years before finally waking up and able to heal himself. It was comfortable enough, with tapestries and fine furniture, but all of the fineries in the world couldn’t change what it was.

A prison. Stiles’ prison.

“I can have the servants bring incense,” was Derek’s only reply as he stood back up, swiping ash from his knees. “I’ll also make sure they clean up again, perhaps something-”

“Or I could leave?” Stiles suggested, his voice biting. “I could step out of this room and go, I don’t know, anywhere else? Matter of fact, I could step out of this _castle_ and go anywhere else?”

Derek sighed, fucking sighed, as if _he_ was the one being put upon. “Stiles, I know you’re not happy about this current situation. But you should know that it’s truly for your best.”

That was it. That was the final straw. That was the final fucking straw. Without a second thought Stiles flung the tray from his lap, fine china breaking against the floor. He scrambled out of bed and went to his armoire, picking out the first pair of trousers he could find, stuffing his sleep shirt inside.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Derek hadn’t moved an inch, his eyes blown large before he narrowed them in irritation. “I’ve told you before Stiles-”

“I can’t leave the room?” Stiles swirled around and flung his arms wide. “Fine. Then bring the High Priestess here.” 

Derek had nothing to say to that, simply clenching his fists.

“Yes that’s right Derek, bring her here,” Stiles sneered, pacing the room. “She can perform the ceremony right here, in front of the fireplace.” He touched the side of his neck. “How long do you think it’ll take for the bite mark to heal? A day? An hour? Maybe it will as soon as she speaks the words. Maybe it’ll be gone before she finishes the fucking ceremony.”

Derek simply stood there, silent, still.

“I will leave the city if I have to! I’ll leave the kingdom! You don’t even have to pay for my passage, my father can provide that much!” Stiles continued, his eyes filling with tears. God he didn’t even have anything to pack in his anger. Everything in this room had been given to him by Derek. “I’ve tried to be patient, I’ve tried to wait for this… this _thing_ to lessen, but it’s only getting worse and worse and I can’t live like this, Derek!”

He stopped dead in his tracks and stared at the man he had known for less than two months, been mated to for less than one. It would be no great loss, would it? And perhaps Derek would let him stay with his father. Perhaps he would simply let Stiles walk out of the castle. Tell others that Stiles had not pleased him, that he was too crass and simple to ever be his consort. Let Stiles live in shame. Surely that would be no great loss.

So why, why did it send a piercing pang in Stiles’ chest when Derek simply said, softly and plainly, “If that is what you want.”

Again, Stiles didn’t even think. He simply marched up to Derek and slapped him soundly, just once. “You bastard, of course that’s not what I want!” He grabbed hold of Derek jacket, glad they were of a height, and kissed his mate soundly.

He perhaps expected Derek to stand still, or even to push him away. But his heart sang as Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles’ lower back and pulled him closer, kissed him gently. As they broke apart Stiles closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Derek’s, and for a minute they simply breathed each other’s air, wrapped in each other’s arms.

“If you want to lock me away I have to leave,” Stiles whispered, steeling himself against Derek’s quiet, broken whimper. “I’m not a bird in a cage, Derek. I’m not a bauble to put on your shelf.”

“I don’t want you to be,” Derek admitted with a sigh, and his heart beat steady and true at that. He leaned back to look Stiles’ in the eye. “I’m… I’m so scared. I don’t… I can’t...“ Derek separated himself at once, walking to the window, his back silhouetted by the streaming sunlight from outside. “Stiles, there’s so much you don’t know about me. So much I haven’t told you. A darkness that gnaws at me, night and day, that I truly wish you would never know of.”

Stiles gnawed his bottom lip. “I wish I didn’t have to. I wish I could say that I would simply listen to you, that I’d be who you want me to be… But I can’t, Derek. I can’t change myself.”

Derek was silent for a long time, and Stiles simply let him be. He took a seat and waited, perhaps the first time he had ever waited so patiently before. Nary a protest nor complaint even crossed his mind as he let Derek make his decision.

Finally the King turned around, his eyes shining with determination, his mouth lined with bitterness. “Tonight. I’ll have a servant come collect you, just give me… a day, one day to collect my thoughts.” He moved forward slowly, taking a single golden key out from his pocket and placing it on the table next to Stiles’ without meeting the omega’s eyes. “I’ll understand if you wish to leave, but I hope you can stay.”

“Of course I will.” 

Tonight. He’d finally hear the entire truth of it, tonight. And then he would his decision.

+++

Derek began his story seated next to Stiles, not close enough that they were touching but not a great distance apart. He stared into the fire as he spoke as if entranced by the flames before him. His voice was monotone, quiet, the words sounding hollow as if they echoed within his chest. The entire time Stiles spoke not a word.

“Kate Argent was the first person I ever fell in love with. She was a beta with the strength of an alpha and the allure of an omega. I was convinced that we were perfect for each other. But when I asked my mother if I could ask for her hand I was met with rejection. You see, I had already been promised to the neighboring kingdom’s beta daughter, and though I had always known that I had hoped perhaps that treaty could be renegotiated. My mother thought that the risk was too great, and begged me to do my duty to the kingdom and cut off ties with Kate.”

He paused there for a pregnant moment, swallowing hard, as if the words were bitter on his tongue. Regret creased his face, and as he continued his words were biting, harsh.

“But as I said, I was in love. I told Kate what my mother had said and she convinced me that we could still be together. My family had a hunting lodge in the woods, and I was to convince them all to go on a holiday with them. Kate would visit and somehow convince them to let her stay for awhile. She was so sure that if she spent time with my mother she could persuade the Queen that she was worthy to be my wife. I loved the plan, so sure in my love, so young and naive… Kate never showed up, but she had never planned to. Instead she waited until I had gone hunting with my sisters and set the place aflame, warding the doors so no one could escape. My uncle has spent years hunting down and punishing her accomplicances.”

Tears welled up in Derek’s eyes but did not fall. He didn’t speak with anger or passion, but simply sadness. Longing for everything to be undone, his fingers twitching.

“Laura was crowned Queen and I swore never to go against my duty again. I married the woman my mother had always planned for me to, Princess Jennifer of the Blake royalty. She was kind and sweet, a beta who would give me good, strong children. Once again I allowed myself to fall in love… And once again my stupidity lead to hurt my family. I had no idea that Jennifer was a dark druid, plotting against my sister, wishing to be Queen herself. And she succeeded. Peter ripped out her throat when she was discovered, the same way he had ripped out Kate’s throat after her trial. And the only thing I thought as I saw her still warm corpse was how angry I was that I had not been able to do so…”

He wasn’t angry now; just haunted, just hollow, a husk of a man with a story he had probably never said aloud to anyone. That he was so quietly telling Stiles now.

“I have loved twice and suffered greatly for it, Stiles. So this third time… This third time I convinced myself that you were not a threat. That an omega was known to always be loyal and true. What would you have to gain from hurting my family? Cora was no threat to your power, and if I died you would be sent back to your father. But still I worried… I had servants spy on you, Peter commanded Heather to become closer so that she may learn what sort of man you were. And report after report came in that you were rude, crass, and uncaring for royalty. That you were loyal and kind, making friends with nobles and servants alike.”

Here Derek’s tone changed… just slightly, just to the extent that only one who was in rapt attention would perhaps notice. And though Stiles didn’t like to think too highly of himself, he couldn’t help that Derek spoke with a touch of awe in his voice. As if he found it hard to believe that Stiles was even real.

“When we mated... I felt a connection to you. Nothing like I had felt with Kate or Jennifer, this instinct that I could trust you, that I had finally found someone I could truly have. And so naturally, I could only conclude that my third great loss as I believed to find my third great love… would be you. That something would happen to you. Rebels or bandits or assassins. I know it may be strange, and I know it’s not logical… but somewhere, deep within me, I feel that I cannot love without losing. And right now the one I fear losing… is you.”

Stiles said nothing at first, because for the first time in his life he had nothing to say. He did, however, take Derek’s hand into his own. It simply felt right to sit there like that, in front of the fireplace. To just be together, to let that one simple touch speak all the words he wanted to say. At least until he could find his own.

“When I was young,” Stiles started, his voice hesitant, his eyes staring intently into the couch pattern, “my mother became very forgetful. She would lose entire hours out of her day, and even though she tried to hide it I knew she was always crying. No healer could figure out what was wrong with her. Eventually Deaton himself saw her, a special request of my father. He said that she was beyond even his help… She forgot more and more, until she couldn’t even remember my name. She died in bed within a year.”

He was never sure which year was sadder, when she was sick and dying, forgetting more and forgetting him... or the year after, coping with not even having her presence in the house.

“My father… well, he was pretty torn up about it.” A vast understatement to the despairing look in his eyes, the way he lost zest in everything with the loss of his mate. “To be honest, if I hadn’t been around I’m not sure what he would have done. But over time we got… use to it. Not over the fact that she was gone, but it became our norm.”

Stiles squeezed Derek’s fingers tightly before continuing. “But I never forgot, not really. I would have panic attacks a lot. Usually when I was alone, when my father was on duty late at night. And now that I knew how horrible it was to lose one parent, I was terrified of losing another. So I made sure my father ate right. I insisted we go out for walks, I made sure a healer visited us regularly. I was obsessive over it for a long time, and to be honest I still keep in touch with our housekeeper to make sure he’s eating well.”

Stiles looked up now and saw that Derek was watching him. He met his mate’s eyes hesitantly, lifting up Derek’s captured hand to cup his cheek. A comfort for both of them, he was sure.

“So trust me,” Stiles continued, “I understand that fear. Of losing someone you love when you already had to go through that once. And I understand that you’ve had to go through it so many times, with so many people… And I’m sure out there is an omega who would do that for you. Stay in the castle, never leave, always be by your side.” He bit his lip. “But that’s not me.”

Derek sighed and stroked his thumb along Stiles’ jaw, and softly said, “I know that, Stiles. I’ve always known that.”

“I can’t change for you,” Stiles continued, “it’s just not my nature. I can’t be a doll on your shelf. I want to be your equal, I want to help you and support you… but I need to do that on my own terms.”

Derek’s thumb stopped, his lips parting slightly. “Does… does that mean you’ll stay?”

“Of course I’m staying!” Stiles scowled. “You lay that deep shit on me and expect me to not even give you a chance? And all of this about loving me- okay, let’s get one thing straight, you barely know me and people often do not grow fonder of me with time-”

He was silenced by a sweeping kiss, Derek’s lips firm as he pulled Stiles’ body flushed with his own. It was heart wrenchingly sweet.

Stiles broke away with a grin. “I’m serious here,” Derek kissed him quickly, “if you don’t let me leave the castle,” another kiss, “you’ll never get to find out,” yet another, “if I am your true love or whatever,” yet another, “and then this whole fiasco will be for naught.”

Derek nodded and kept smiling, kept peppering Stiles with kisses, murmuring over, “I promise, I promise.”

Stiles intended to keep him to that.


	8. Epilogue

“Uncle Stiles, Uncle Stiles!” Victoria yelled as she flapped Stiles’ coat up and down. “What are you getting me for my 7th birthday?”

“Hmm… I don’t know,” Stiles contemplated, setting down his parchments. “I was thinking… perhaps a big pile of dirt?”

“What?!” she screeched, flinging the fabric down and running to her father. “Daddy, Daddy, Uncle Stiles says he’s getting me _dirt_ for my birthday!”

“Hmm,” Scott murmured as he bent to pick her up and settle her on his lap. “That might be a good idea. Maybe I’ll ask Papa and Mama if they think we should also get you that…”

“Daddy!” she yelled again, standing up on his legs and grabbing the lapels of his jacket. “I’m seven now! SEVEN! This is big! Big, big, big! Aunt Lydia already said she’s getting me at LEAST seven dresses!”

“One for every year, huh?” Stiles looked back down at his papers. “Perhaps I should slowly increase the taxes on tailoring services… By your 18th we can finance a new hospital.”

Victoria decidedly ignored him. “Daddy, Papa said I could have a pony soon. I can ride one, promise! I’ll take care of it! I’ll do everything!”

“Then it’s settled, Scotty,” Stiles decided with a smirk, “you get her a pony and I’ll get her the dirt.”

“Just you wait,” she exclaimed, curly brown hair bouncing as she turned around, putting her hands on her hips, “until I tell Uncle Derder how RUDE you are being! He’ll get me something real nice, and he won’t put your name on it either!”

Stiles gasped loudly, clutching his heart. “The fiend! He wouldn’t!”

“Oh yes he will!” Victoria warned, wagging her finger. “And you’ll be sorry!”

“Okay, hmm… Well, let’s get serious then.” Stiles leaned forward and clasped his hands, like he had done in so many negotiations and treaties before. Victoria took his cue and settled down onto her father’s lap, and Stiles gave her time to settle down before asking, “How about I give you… a new friend?”

“Like a pony?” she exclaimed, clapping her hands.

“No, no.” Stiles waved his hand with a chuckle. “Like another little girl from a very distant place who is coming to visit the kingdom for awhile with her parents. A girl right around your age who needs someone to show her around, make her feel less homesick.”

Victoria pouted as she thought it through. “Perhaps… perhaps one of the ways I could make her feel less sad… is if we got the chance to ride my _two_ new ponies?”

Lydia had taught the girl all too well.

Stiles put on a long suffering sigh. “Well, we’ll see about the ponies… provided I have your word that you’ll do your best to be little Kira’s friend?”

“Kira?” Victoria scrunched her nose. “What kind of name is Kira?”

Scott pinched her cheek. “Victoria, let’s not be rude. She’s from the Eastern Kingdoms and I’m sure her name is perfectly normal there. In fact, she might think that _Victoria_ is a strange name!”

“But Grandma was named Victoria! It’s a super old name because a grandma once had it!” Victoria explained, as if nothing else was more obvious.

“Nonetheless, we are going to be polite to the Yukimura’s when they arrive,” Scott decided, lifting Victoria up and putting her on the ground. “Now, I believe Mama and Papa are expecting you to go back inside. Off with Nana.”

Victoria pouted some more and made some protestation, but lured by the promise of treats and tea she took her Nana’s hand and walked back into the manor with a merry little skip.

Scott smiled fondly as he watched her walk into a doorway before turning to Stiles. “Sorry she interrupted us. I know you wished to speak privately, but I forgot to warn Nana to make her stay inside.”

“It’s fine.” Stiles waved a flippant hand and grabbed a parchment. “I just… Well, to be honest, I wanted to share the news…” He handed the parchment over with a hesitant smile. “Derek… Well... I think we’re both ready for another mate.”

Scott’s eyebrows raised as he scanned the parchment. “I thought… Are these your candidates?” He brushed a finger against the list. “Malia? The Desert Wolf’s daughter? And Lady Braeden? Isn’t she the Summer Isles warrior that bested Erica in the tournament not two years ago?” He put down the parchment with a creased brow. “I thought Derek didn’t want a beta because of how dangerous his last two had been…”

“Just because you can kill a man in battle does not mean you will do so in his bed,” Stiles replied, once more clasping his hands. “These beta’s are all known to be loyal and true, have had multiple attestments to their honor. I plan to host them here, to see them for myself.” Derek would trust his judgment, he knew. His King had long since learned to do so.

“Why the sudden change?” Scott couldn’t help but ask. “You two seem happy enough.”

“I… I think it will be best for us,” Stiles answered, looking out onto Scott’s estates, the trees still barren but ripe to bloom. “I see you and Allison and Isaac and I can’t help but feel.. that’s how it’s suppose to be. And I see Victoria and I can’t help but envy you three.”

Scott was silent for a few moments before asking, “And if none of them are what you wish for? If none of them pass your examination?”

“Then I will spoil you and Cora’s children until they can’t stand me,” Stiles decided with a smile. “If that’s what Derek wants then I will be content. But I want to at least try, and I think… I think we’re both ready to do so.”

“Well,” Scott said as he stood, “I will support you no matter what.” He walked over and firmly clasped Stiles’ shoulder. “We all will.”

Stiles grinned brightly as he stood up. “Excellent. I suspected no less, of course. Now come, we have much discuss and I believe we should be somewhere we can write it all down. I was thinking of a series of tests. Or perhaps I can call them trials? Think old myth, fairy tale stuff, like collecting rare items or solving a puzzle…”

And like that the two friends walked to the estate, laughing and smiling, talking of the future they wished for and the happiness they had now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure some of you won't like this ending, but others I'm hoping will think it's fun. A happy ending all around though! Epilogue can be ignored I guess if you wish ;P Thanks for sticking with me! Glad this is finished!

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing gets me writing faster than comments, questions, suggestions and edits!
> 
> Come check out my [Tumblr](http://ember-to-ash.tumblr.com/), which is basically entirely dedicated to my fics, snippets, questions, prompts, and Sterek I reblog!


End file.
